The Enemy of My Father
by Mihra-Attar
Summary: Hagrid didn't get a chance to tell Harry that Slytherin was the ebiil House. Dark!Harry Fem!Blaise. ABANDONED
1. Slytherin

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I'm just an addicted fan who wants to see what happens when just one small change is made.

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Intro: Read the first four and a half chapters of the first Harry Potter. This version is slightly different, but not enough to matter so I'm not going over it. However, from here on out it's an AU. I'll probably skim over some of this stuff because I don't enjoy direct-copying more than a few lines. Chapter 5 is similar, except where changes. It should be noted that Harry does not learn anything of the Houses from Hagrid.

AN: *curses in three languages, one of which doesn't exist* My formatting is not coming out nicely. I will attempt to fix this. Apologies where I miss things.

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Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dear?" She said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah." Harry replied, slightly distracted by trying not to flinch as the witch worked on his robes, tugging here and there and putting pressure on his ribs.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley, though admittedly without all the fat. He grimaced, wondering how long he was going to have to put up with the blathering idiot.

"What?" The boy must have noticed his grimace, and sounded quite affronted.

"You sound like a spoiled brat." The boy's face somehow paled, then started to get red. Madam Malkin looked affronted, but continued to fit him. The boy spluttered for a bit, and hadn't gotten his voice back when his tailor released him so he simply stormed out.

"Now, I'm not saying he isn't a spoiled brat, but you don't want to be saying those kinds of things to a Malfoy's face young man." Madam Malkin said reproachfully as she continued fitting him. He winced again when she brushed his arm.

"I'm used to his kind." Harry said through gritted teeth. "I'm not scared." She pushed up his sleeves without warning, probably trying to figure out why he'd winced. She looked at his arm, at the hand-shaped bruise on it really, and then looked back into his eyes. "It takes someone a lot bigger to scare me." She went back to her tailoring, and he to being a good mannequin.

At Flourish and Blotts, along with his school books, Harry bought _Hogwarts: A History _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. At the Apothecary Harry got into a discussion with the owner about the difference between glass and crystal phials, finally buying a crystal set (lasts longer and is less likely to cloud). He completely ignored the solid gold and silver cauldrons, but made sure his scales were of good quality. Harry had learned long ago how to judge quality, as he'd been taken shopping by the Dursleys to carry their bags, and had convinced Dudley that he knew how to pick high quality products. His good eye had been honed by the necessity of picking things that would survive Dudley to be passed onto him.

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"Uncle Vernon?" Harry stood in the door to the living room the night before his departure. His uncle grunted. "On your way to take Dudley to the hospital could you drop me off at King's Cross?"

"Magic carpets all got punctures have they?" Was the reply.

"Nah dad." Dudley winked at Harry. The two had a very strange relationship in which Dudley tormented Harry for the most part, but if Harry really needed something Dudley'd help him as long as he didn't get caught being nice. "Train's so they can't fly off and bother people like us." Dudley was really rather smart, when he tried. Mostly he didn't try. Vernon grunted again.

"Fine boy." Harry slipped back to his room and quietly shut the door.

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Uncle Vernon barely waited until Harry had his trunk out of the car before speeding off, leaving Harry to load his trunk onto a cart and wheel it towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. He'd read how to get onto platform nine and three quarters from _Hogwarts: A History_, but was still uncomfortable with the concept. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath, and wheeled his cart, owl cage and all, straight through what should have been a solid wall.

Harry was trying to haul his too-heavy trunk onto the scarlet engine when the pointy-faced boy from Madam Malkin's walked over, two bulky boys with slightly mean looks reminiscent of Dudley in a punching mood following a step behind him.

"Need a hand?" The boy asked, attempting to embarrass Harry or something like that. He snapped his fingers before getting a response, and the two boys started forwards.

"Thanks." Harry said, barely stepping aside in time to avoid being shoved away from his own trunk. The two boys hefted the trunk and carried it into a compartment that already had three other trunks stowed in it.

"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. These are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle." Malfoy held out his hand. Harry took it, sighing slightly and not looking forwards to the reaction he was about to elicit. He'd gotten the two extra books because he didn't want to seem like a complete idiot, but what he got from them was his own history.

"Harry. Harry Potter." Well, the stunned looks on the three boy's faces were mildly amusing, as were the change in posture of Goyle. Malfoy had very likely not noticed, but Harry had spent ten years learning how to tell when someone was about to beat him up, and that tended to make one good at identifying how people related to each other. Goyle had just decided that he was going to give Harry a chance to make a friend.

"Wait, _you're_ Harry Potter?" Draco's voice was incredulous.

"Yes Draco Malfoy. I'm Harry Potter." He sat in the forwards-facing chair next to the window and gestured for the three to sit. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, looked at Malfoy, and Goyle sat down without the blond boy's express permission. Malfoy's expression tightened for a moment, then he flounced into his own seat, Crabbe sitting a second after him.

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Insert a days worth of conversation in which Malfoy and Potter verbally spar, while Crabbe and Goyle look on with varying levels of interest.

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_...__You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Harry didn't pay all that much attention to the sorting. He did pay enough attention to see that Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy all went into Slytherin, and that a Neville Longbottom ran off with the hat still on his head. When his own name was called he payed only scant attention to the whispers breaking out all across the hall. He sat calmly on the stool and the hat was placed on his head, falling over his eyes.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of cunning, I see. Not a bad mind either. And talent, oh my goodness, yes – and an amazing thirst to prove yourself. So where should I put you?"

"Not Hufflepuff, not Hufflepuff." Harry whispered, gripping the edge of his chair.

"Oh no, definitely not Hufflepuff." The hat actually chuckled at him. "You'd kill them all within a week." It ruminated. "What about SLYTHERIN!" The last was shouted to the whole hall, and Harry walked steadily to the Slytherin table, settling between Malfoy and Goyle so that Malfoy was on his right, with Crabbe beyond him. He looked up to the head table as the last few students were sorted to see Professor Quirrel speaking to a black-haired, hook-nosed teacher who had a distinctly sour look. He let his eyes graze along the table until he caught the eyes of the man-with-half-moon-spectacles, also known as Dumbledore, and saw a flash of anger.

"You know." He whispered to Malfoy. "I don't think Dumbledore's very happy with me."

"Well duh. He's a Gryffindork. So were your parents. Probably expected you to be in his old house." Malfoy said, smirking mightily up at the head table.

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The feast passed relatively amiably. Harry was expecting something to happen, having discovered his apparent black-sheepishness, but nothing did until he and the other first years were settled in the common room, sitting sleepily on couches and chairs with a seventh-year standing over them.

"Welcome to the noble house of Slytherin." The seventh-year said. "There are a few rules you need to follow, but you only need to know two tonight. One, we don't care how you feel about your housemates, but in public you will be civil and present a united front. Two, you will always be presentable. We have appearances to maintain. That is all for tonight. Tomorrow you will be presented with our official House rules. You will be expected to know them by heart by next Friday. Now go to bed. Slytherins are not late for class." He started shooing them towards the hall to their new dorm when the wall opened and the hook-nosed teacher walked in.

"Mister Potter please remain. Everyone else, bed." The teacher said, glaring at the other students until they departed. Harry had to nod at Goyle before he would leave. When everyone was gone Harry watched the teacher carefully, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Mister Potter." The teacher loomed over him, irritation plain in his posture and voice. "I have no clue how you were sorted into this house, but if you display any of your father's..." Harry cut him off, making his eyes widen with shock and something that was probably dismay.

"Professor." Harry figured the risk was worth it. After all, teachers were much less likely to hit him than, say, his Uncle Vernon. "I am not my father." He met the man's eyes, trying to read whether he could convince the man to not be biased against him. "I have no memory of my father." The pain he felt at those words, and the anger, he pushed away for later. "If I behave inappropriately for a _Slytherin_ feel free to correct me, but please do not punish me because you have a problem with a dead man." He winced at his own words, hoping he hadn't just signed his own death warrant. The man's eyes were unreadable.

"Sit, Potter." He said at length.

"Yes, Professor...?" He let his voice raise, politely asking for the man's name as he sank onto a chair, keeping his posture attentive.

"Snape." The man gracefully sank into a chair across from his, settling back into it but leaning forwards to maintain eye contact.

"Yes Professor Snape." Harry waited for the man to continue.

"Your father and I attended school together." Snape said at length. "We did not get along. He was an arrogant bully who liked to show off." His voice was bitter with suppressed rage and pain, and Harry felt a strange kinship with the hurting man before him, even though the man was disparaging his father.

"And I was sorted into Slytherin, not Gryffindor." Harry said softly.

"Yes. He's probably rolling in his grave." Snape sounded almost amused at that. "If he were alive he'd likely disown you." The man seemed to take pleasure in saying things that should have hurt Harry.

"If he were alive I probably would have been sorted into Gryffindor." Harry replied quietly, his own stab at his Head of House.

"I will be honest with you mister Potter. I am not happy about having you in my house." Snape's voice sounded like steel.

"Are you willing to give me a chance sir?" Harry asked. For some reason his usage of the word 'sir' made Snape's eyes widen.

"I will try." Snape sat up, not leaning back but bringing his head both higher and backing away from Harry's. "That is all I can promise."

"Thank you sir." Harry let his body relax a little into the arm of the chair, badly suppressing a yawn. It had been a long day, and he was tired.

"Go to bed mister Potter." Snape rose, waiting for Harry to get to his own feet before sweeping out.


	2. A Nightmare and A Wardrobe

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I'm just an addicted fan who wants to see what happens when just one small...okay, a few pretty big changes.

AN: I'm synthing the books and the movies in terms of uniform. I know this is Britain, and they have school uniforms there, but the book says nothing about uniforms, just robes. However, the 'robes' in the movies show uniforms underneath. Therefore, in my AU there are robes, and people wear their own clothes underneath...and their clothes are visible.

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"Go to bed mister Potter." Snape rose, waiting for Harry to get to his own feet before sweeping out. Harry dragged himself through the hall he'd seen the other boys disappear into. Along the way he noticed placards with two names on them outside each door. After a decently long walk he came to a door: Potter, Harry. Goyle, Gregory. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Two four-post beds with green hangings and silver posts sat with trunks at their feet. There was a fireplace, outlined in green, silver, and black. Hedwig's cage sat on top of a black wardrobe pushed against a wall with another standing a few feet away, separated by a bookshelf. Desks were placed between the beds and the door, the chairs facing the door.

"Put your stuff away in the wardrobe. We share the bookshelf. You okay?" Goyle asked, his eyes showing more concern than his bored voice. Harry started unloading his trunk, much as he wanted to simply collapse into bed and sleep for a week.

"Yeah. Thanks." Harry smiled at him.

"We got our own bathroom down the hall so we don't get caught out at night." Goyle's voice was soft and slow, but Harry was starting to think the boy was a lot less stupid than he looked.

"Can I do this tomorrow?" Harry was holding his last set of school robes, having already hung up the other spare and his cloak. He knew his voice sounded whiny, but he was _tired_ and having someone else in the room he was supposed to sleep in was generating some distinctly unpleasant thoughts and memories.

"Wouldn't recommend it." Goyle shrugged. "Don't take long. Here." He walked over and grabbed Harry's books out of his trunk, dropping them all onto the bookshelf. "Move your schoolbooks in the morning." He'd already put all his stuff away rather neatly. Harry grudgingly hung up the last robe and dumped the rest of his clothes in one of the drawers. His quills et all were dropped unceremoniously in the desk drawer.

"There." He said, turning back to see Goyle plucking at his hand-me-downs with disdain.

"I'm gonna have to talk to Draco in the morning." Goyle held up one of Dudley's old shirts, baggy and faded.

"Why?" Harry was getting irritated.

"You're in Slytherin. You can't be seen in these. Draco's good with clothes." Goyle shrugged.

"Fine. Can we sleep now?" Harry finally snapped, then looked apologetically at the boy looking stoically back at him.

"You gonna be grumpy in the morning too?"

"I'm sorry Goyle."

"Gregory."

"Grehuh?"

"Call me Gregory, 'least in here." He started stripping off his clothes, tossing the dirty bits in a hamper hidden on the far side of his wardrobe and hanging his school robes next to his others. "Gonna sleep in your robes?"

Harry grabbed his night clothes and retreated to his bed, pulling the hangings. There was no way he was changing in front of anyone...ever. Not with...

"That's not very smart. You can't just leave your old stuff on the floor." Gregory called softly after him. Harry changed, then got back out of bed to put his stuff away.

"It...I...just." Harry stopped trying to explain, glancing towards the door unconsciously to see the Slytherin crest painted proudly above it.

"Hey." Goyle's hand was on his shoulder and he winced both in physical pain and in anticipation. "Hey." Goyle repeated, a little more forcefully. Harry reluctantly looked back at him. "You're not okay." Harry mutely shook his head, shaking from head to toe, the heavy thumping of Vernon's step ringing in his ears. "You wanna talk about it?" He shook his head again, starting to cringe back. Gregory let him go, a confused look on his face. He seemed to be wavering about something, but Harry couldn't see that. Harry was in his room back on Privet Drive.

He backed into the corner, eyes wide, shaking, and sank to the floor, hands wrapped around his knees, rocking, waiting for the first blow to fall.

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Harry didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when long, slim fingers, definitely not Uncle Vernon's, tilted his chin up. He looked unseeing into the eyes of Professor Snape, eyes that were quickly turning from annoyed to concerned.

"Get up Potter." Harry had to obey that voice, though he didn't know why. He let Snape help him to his feet, wincing at the grip on his arm. He tried to hide it. Uncle Vernon didn't like it when he winced (though cowering in a corner in fear was fine). Dismay washed over him when he felt his sleeve being shoved up his arm followed by a disgusted growl.

"Goyle, go to bed. Potter, come with me." The hand retrieved its grip on his arm, much gentler this time, and he was being guided out of his room and down the hall. He followed the grip, stumbling, unsure of where he was. The Slytherin common room wavered before him, and for a second he thought the flashbacks were over, but then Uncle Vernon was there, his fist descending. Harry ripped himself out of the hand and cowered against the wall, covering his head with his arms. Distantly he heard a resigned sigh, felt slim, strong arms slide around him.

Harry was being lifted, cradled against soft black robes, the disgruntled mutterings of Professor Snape somehow pulling him back to the present. Torches and corners passed as Harry's sight wavered in and out. Then there was a long room, light springing from sconces on the wall. A voice, worried, female, asking Professor Snape what was wrong. He felt the arms lowering him onto a bed, and grabbed at them, not knowing why except that he was afraid and they weren't hurting him.

"Potter, I need you to take your shirt off." That was definitely Professor Snape. Harry shook his head. He really didn't want to take his shirt off in front of anyone. He didn't want them to see.

"Professor Snape. What is going on?" It was a woman's voice, querulous. Harry felt his sleeve being shoved upwards again, and turned to hide his face in Snape's robes, distraught embarrassment in every line of his body. He heard a gasp, then shuffling feet.

"Potter." Snape's voice held a note of irritation. "I don't care how you feel about this. I will not permit one of my Slytherins to walk around this school covered in bruises. You will take off your shirt so madam Pomfrey can heal you properly, and you will do so now." Harry nodded against the man's chest, and straightened, keeping his eyes closed tightly, to strip off his shirt. A female gasp and a masculine intake of breath made him start shaking again, this time consumed only with embarrassment. He started to curl in on himself, and was surprised to feel those same thin, surprisingly strong arms pull him back against the comforting chest.

"Professor Snape." It was the Pomfrey woman. Harry could hear her put something down on the nearby table. He felt Snape nod, then start shifting Harry so that he was sitting on his own.

"Potter. You will take this potion, then you will let madam Pomfrey rub salve on your bruises." Harry nodded blankly, accepting the glass that Snape pressed into his hands, though he was shaking too much to actually drink it. He felt Snape sigh, and the glass was being lifted, pressed to his lips. He swallowed, and a soothing sensation spread from his stomach, relaxing everything. He felt soft hands gently massaging something into his arms, but kept his eyes closed. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke to Gregory kneeling next to his bed and gently shaking his arm.

"Come on Harry. You need to wake up." Harry fought the darkness, feeling strange for not having had a nightmare, and looked around for his glasses. He felt them slipped into his hand and put them on, blinking at the green light from the lit lanterns.

"Why're you down there?" He asked, confused.

"Profes'r Snape told me I'd have to wake you up and not to loom." Gregory replied with a shrug. "Come for breakfast." He stood up, backing away slightly as he did, and Harry dragged himself out of bed. He felt good, really good, better than he had since he could remember. It must have showed on his face because Gregory smiled slightly.

"Bruises're gone. Feels good huh?" Harry's head snapped around and he blushed. "Hey." Gregory didn't move towards him, but his tone was kind. "It's not your fault." Harry figured shrugs were going to be his roommate's signature. "I gotta go." He walked out. Harry waited for the door to close before striping off his clothes to find his body clear of bruises. That disturbed him a little, as he had no recollection of taking off his pants, but he quickly put on a pair of jeans that fit okay and a top, throwing robes over the set and slipping into socks and shoes.

"Potter." Malfoy was leaning against the wall. He saw the boy's eyes taking in the ragged clothes visible under his robes, the slightly tattered shoes. "Goyle was right. Come here." He had no choice but to follow.

Malfoy's room, shared with Crabbe, had an extra wardrobe, and Harry found out why when Malfoy opened it to reveal an inordinate amount of clothing.

"Strip Potter." Malfoy said, rummaging through the wardrobe. Harry just stared at him, part of his mind trying to figure out why every male he'd exchanged more than three words with was trying to get him to take clothing off in front of them. Malfoy turned back, a pair of pants and a shirt in his hands, to see Harry just standing there.

"Look, you can't walk around Hogwarts in those rags, okay?" He somehow managed to cross his arms without dropping the clothes or making it look awkward. "I'm going to owl dad and get him to come for a visit with our tailor and the stuff I didn't bring because I don't want it anymore, but until then you're going to have to borrow my stuff. So strip." Harry sighed, but obeyed, ending up standing in front of Malfoy wearing nothing but his underwear. He tried on the pants and shirt Malfoy handed him, and knew they looked much better, even though he still needed his belt.

"We have to feed you up too." Malfoy sighed as though it was an imposition. "Here, try these." The shoes he thrust into Harry were way too big. He sighed a put-out sigh. "DOBBY!" His yell was so loud Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he'd woken everyone in the House...if anyone was still asleep. Suddenly there was a loud crack.

"Master sir called sir?" A short, wrinkly creature with big eyes and big floppy ears was crouched between the two boys.

"Go get all of my old shoes and bring them back here." Malfoy ordered. There was another crack and the creature was gone. "House elf." Answered Harry's confused look, right before a third crack and a tumble of shoes heralded the re-appearance of the elf. "Sort these into sizes." A snap and they were sorted. "Here. Try these on until you find something that fits, then keep everything in that size." Malfoy turned back to the elf. "While he's doing that, go grab everything still in my closet." And the elf was gone again. "Might as well not bother dad." He muttered.

Harry tried on four pairs of shoes before he found the pile in his size. There were five pairs in the pile: One pair of sneakers, two pairs of regular boots, one pair of strange boots ('quidditch boots Potter'), and one pair of dress shoes. While he was separating the five from the rest of the shoes Dobby re-appeared, this time with a mound of clothes. Malfoy quickly sorted through it and pulled out a pair of black pants, something form-fitting that stopped clinging above the knee, like a mix between slacks and leather, and a button-up shirt in Slytherin green. Harry obeyed his instructions to change, glad he did so when both fit much better, and put on a pair of boots, snug and unlikely to chafe, before throwing his robe back on.

"Take the clothes and these shoes to Mr. Potter's room, and put them away nicely. Then take the rest of this stuff back home. Let's go Harry." Malfoy walked out, quite the arrogant firstborn. Harry followed, feeling very lost and confused, but also good. It was amazing what not being bruised would do, and even more amazing what clothes that fit and looked good (even if they were mostly hidden by robes) did. By the time they got to the great hall he was walking with his head held high.

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AN.2: Author likes reviews.

Also: I've got a one-shot set in this AU...give or take...during the 4th year.


	3. Discard, Discard, Keep, Discard

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I'm just an addicted fan who wants to see what happens when just one small...okay, a few pretty big...changes are made.

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By the time they got to the great hall he was walking with his head held high.

Harry looked around as he and Malfoy walked into the great hall and strode together over to the Slytherin table. He met Goyle's eyes, and saw the approval there. He smiled at his roommate, and settled down next to him, his eyes leaving the students to graze the head table. He saw Professor Snape raise an eyebrow at his changed appearance, and smiled hesitantly. He was rewarded with an almost imperceptible nod of approval, and filled his plate with a light heart.

"I see mister Malfoy has gotten his hands on you, mister Potter. Good work mister Malfoy." Snape's voice accompanied a schedule being held in front of Harry's face, and Harry took it even as he turned to look up at his Head of House.

"Just lucky he fits my old stuff so well. I was planning on having dad come up here with the tailor." Malfoy replied rather snottily but with a taste of humor. "Of course we'll have to actually go through everything and pick out the outfits that work."

"I'm sure you'll have mister Potter properly attired by the end of the day. Between now and then, however, you have class." With that Snape turned and stalked back to the high table, leaving Harry and the others to go over their schedules.

While Malfoy grumbled about their classes Harry looked over his schedule, and noticed a note scrawled at the bottom.

_I will probably regret this._

_If you feel the need to talk come find me._

Before Harry could decide if he wanted to respond he was dragged from his seat by Malfoy and was forced to regain his dignity, doing so within a few steps. He walked out of the great hall on his own power, surrounded by Malfoy, Gregory, and Crabbe.

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Harry was much less dismayed than Malfoy when their first class was Herbology, though Transfiguration after lunch pissed him off. By the time they'd finally finished their last class he was glaring at everyone who looked at him and whispered behind their hands, and almost hit Malfoy when the boy started dragging him back to their dorm.

"Bloody hell Potter." Malfoy snapped when Harry tried to shake him off. "We've got to pick out the clothes that suit you and send back everything else before the first inspection." Harry looked to Gregory for confirmation, and got a subtle nod, so he followed the blond boy back to their House.

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"Discard." Malfoy was lounging on Gregory's bed, watching Harry change with avid boredom. Already there was a pile of five pants and thirteen shirts on the bed, and a pile twice that size on the floor. Harry was currently wearing a pair of black, form-fitting, dragon hide pants that Malfoy insisted 'went with absolutely everything', and was very glad his wardrobe was almost empty. He had just discarded a white tee shirt that was a bit too stretched, and was wondering how the hell the poncy Malfoy had even managed to own such a simple garment.

The next thing that came to Harry's fingers was a silver, button-up silk shirt with green and black snakes winding about the body and much smaller ones on the cuffs.

"Oh, keep, definitely. You look good in snakes Potter." Malfoy smirked as Harry started unbuttoning the shirt.

"Damnit Malfoy! You're giving me clothing! Call me Harry before I punch you." Harry finally exploded, the shirt hitting the bed with unnecessary force. Malfoy just smirked.

"Then you call me Draco." Malfoy paused, apparently thinking. "At least, when there aren't Gryffindorks, Smartyclaws, or Huffleduffs around. Hey DOBBY!" The elf appeared after a second.

"Yes young master?" Dobby asked, crouching in a bow.

"Where'd you put the vests, jackets and cloaks?" And to Harry's dismay Goyle's wardrobe burst open and a number of overgarments flew out. "Stay here unless dad needs you." Malfoy gestured for Harry to put on the last shirt, a plain black button-up, slightly lighter than the pants. He then proceeded to making Harry try on every vest, jacket, and cloak.

Five vests were on the floor, two on the bed. Three of the seven cloaks were usable, and two dragon hide jackets looked 'smashing' enough to keep.

"Dobby, put all of these away in mister _Potter's_ wardrobe, then take the rest back to the house." Malfoy said to the elf before turning to Harry, Goyle, and Crabbe. "Come on boys, let's go make an entrance." Some time during the ordeal Malfoy had discarded his robe and had Crabbe take it back to their room and hang it up. He was wearing a pair of dark green dragon hide pants and a silver button-up shirt. He'd had Harry change back into a green-with-silver-snakes shirt, keeping the black pants he'd had on for all of the shirts. Crabbe and Gregory had also changed, and now looked like high-fashion muggle bikers.

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Two sixth-years were lounging in the common room when the quartet walked in, heading for the entrance hall. They glanced up lazily, and Harry heard Draco smirk when they both double-take'd.

"Ready for dinner boys?" Draco asked, giving the pair a clue as to where they were going.

"Oh, I wannna watch this." One of them said, and both got up, trotting away to be sitting when the four entered the great hall.

Most of the students were still wearing their school robes, as was typical, but here and there a pair of jeans and a tee shirt poked among the endless black...until the open double doors framed the quartet, drawing everyone's attention. The four paused, making sure they had absolutely every pair of eyes fixed on them, posing with languid arrogance on the parts of Harry and Draco, and aggressive challenge on that of Crabbe and Gregory.

When the tableau broke it was because Harry and Draco were strutting in perfect time towards the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Gregory following. Harry made sure to check the head table to see the reactions of the Professors. Most of them were in various states of mild irritation or amusement, but the headmaster had a look of absolute fury on his face, though Harry doubted anyone else would notice. It was surprising how much the Headmaster's expressions looked like his uncle's when they were in public. Then there was their own Snape, leaning back with a well-masked smirk.

"You did good." Gregory murmured to Harry as they sat down. He'd been coaching Harry during the day, and Harry had been slowly assuming the same attitude he'd seen so often on Dudley. He was good at it, particularly now that he was properly dressed.

"Thanks." Harry murmured back, loading his plate with a carefully chosen selection of fried veggies, meat, and potatoes. He watched the high table out of the corner of his eye as he ate, conversed with Draco and Gregory, and kept the rest of his attention on everyone else. After all, vigilance never hurt anyone, and lack of it got plenty of people...damaged.

Harry's covert vigilance paid off when, part way through the dessert course, something small and brown flew towards him. He ducked with the ease of long practice, and the dungbomb hit the wall behind him. One of the older students was quick enough to throw a shield between him and the bomb with a hastily shouted 'protego' as it exploded

"Throwing things at my students Weasleys?" Snape's voice rang across the hall.

"No Professor." Two boys with flaming red hair said in concert, grinning from ear to ear. Snape swept towards the pair, robes billowing behind him. Harry couldn't hear the rest of what he said to them, but he saw the boys pale, and Gryffindor lost a few house points.

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There was much chortling in the Slytherin common room when the quartet strode in. However, despite their display, they were still first-years, and had to make due with whatever seating wasn't taken by older students. Draco looked like he was about to throw a temper tantrum, but Harry had an idea.

"Hey...Flint, right?" He waved to the boy who had shielded him from the dungbomb.

"Yeah?" The boy said, looking up from his homework.

"Think you guys could conjure up some more pillows with the Slytherin crest?" He asked, gesturing not only to Flint, but to the other older students sitting around him. "Big like to line the walls when they're not being used?" He held his arms almost as wide as they could go.

"Huh." Flint looked at the others in his group. "Half green, half silver?" They nodded, and five of them brought out wands. A few minutes later the bases of the walls were completely lined with alternating green and silver square pillows, each a meter across, with the Slytherin crest on them. Harry grabbed a sliver pillow, and tossed it down in front of the fire, grabbing a green one for Gregory, who was grabbing both their bags from their room so they could do homework.

"Excellent idea Harry." Draco said, grabbing his own silver pillow, and a green one for Crabbe at Harry's pointed look. They settled down as the two boys lumbered back in, bags tossed over their shoulders.

They were halfway through an essay for Professor Sprout when Professor Snape strode in, stopping dead two steps in as he stared around in shock.

"Whose...idea...was this?" He asked, gesturing towards the rather large number of pillows.

"Mine sir." Harry said, wondering if he'd done something wrong. Snape seemed torn between irritation and amusement, something Harry, it seemed, had a knack of causing in him. Finally he shook his head and changed the subject.

"Gather everyone up." He said to the older students. They nodded, and ran off, three leaving the dorm entirely, two running to get people from their rooms.

When everyone was gathered, many taking advantage of the new pillows, Snape spoke.

"If I hear of any pillow fights I will be very unhappy." The older students smirked at each other, Harry looked with a smidgen of apprehension at Draco, who had an expression that was worriedly smirking.

"You are all a part of the noble House of Slytherin, and you will act in a manner befitting members of this House." Snape looked at all of them, but focused on the first years. "First and foremost, whatever you do don't get caught. If you cannot keep yourselves from getting caught don't break the rules.

"Feel free to compete inside this House, but outside of it you are all Slytherins, and will help each other with no hesitation.

"Slytherins do not miss class unless they are unconscious in the hospital wing, nor are they...tardy." The look Snape threw towards a few of the second-years was...vindictive.

"Do not underestimate anyone, ever. Doing so is detrimental to your health." That one was obvious to Harry.

"Slytherins do not throw tantrums, nor do they loose their temper. If you must do either of these things do it somewhere where no one will see you.

"Heroic and brave acts are reserved for Gryffindors. Studying in public is reserved for Ravenclaws. Being nice and helpful is reserved for Hufflepuffs. Do not get caught doing any of these things." Snape glared around at all of them. "All of you should be able to recite these rules from memory by Friday." With that he turned and stalked out.

"Alright first years." A seventh year had taken Snape's place, and the older students were wandering off. "This year, if anyone from our house tells you to do something, you do it. This is expected of all Slytherins. We all went through it." Harry nodded, Draco looked like he was going to rebel. "You don't want to know what happens if you refuse." The seventh-year sat down, and Harry nodded to Gregory, the two of them turning to finish their homework.

---------------------------

------------------------

"Harry, hey Harry." A slightly pudgy hand was shaking his arm. Harry sat bolt upright, eyes wide, startling Gregory who was again kneeling by his bed. "You were whimpering." Gregory said, not making any move towards Harry whose heart was still beating as though it was trying to break through his ribcage and flee his presence. "Wanna talk about it?" Harry shook his head, but took a deep breath anyways.

"You know my parents're dead. I got left with my mum's muggle sister and her family. My cousin left me alone when I stopped being afraid of him, and my aunt just ignored me, but my uncle..." He took a deep breath, looking up at the canvass stretched between the posts of his bed. "I wasn't afraid of my cousin 'cause he and his friends were nothing compared to my uncle." The last came out in a hoarse whisper, and harry couldn't say any more. He didn't look at Gregory, expecting the boy to be revolted by him letting a muggle beat him up.

Harry felt the bed shift slightly, and then felt Gregory's hand on his shoulder. He almost flinched, but his roommate didn't grab, just rested his hand there in a comforting way. When Harry didn't move he felt the boy stand up, and even as he started shaking, feeling rejected, he felt the bed sink behind him and two thick arms wrapping around him. Instead of feeling trapped he felt like he was wrapped in a comforting blanket. For the second night in a row someone who barely knew him held him as he cried himself to sleep.


	4. My Head of House

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I'm just an addicted fan who wants to see what happens when just one small...okay, a few pretty big...changes are made.

Accolades to imadoodlenoodle, who is helping me keep this from becoming too horribly confusing because my brain doesn't work.

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Potions on Friday was...interesting.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potions-making." Professor Snape began, looming at the front of the class and glaring around. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – _if_ you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Draco nudged Harry and nodded towards a bushy-haired Gryffindork who was sitting on the edge of her seat, looking constipated with her need to prove she wasn't a dunderhead. Harry smirked, an expression he was learning to wear with pride, and then turned back to his appraisal of Snape. The man really was a master of intimidation, and Harry had much to learn if he was going to survive the summer.

"Longbottom!" said Snape suddenly after that short but powerful introduction to the art of potions making. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry quietly pulled out a parchment and quill, noting that Gregory did the same. The Longbottom boy, rather pudgy with an apparent propensity for being intimidated, jumped and looked terrified. Beside him the girl with bushy hair had her hand quavering in the air.

"Let's try again. Longbottom, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I...I...I don't know." The boy's voice was barely audible, particularly over the sound of the beaver-looking girl practically hopping in her chair. Harry had noted her abnormally large teeth now that her mouth was open, trying to answer the question without words. He'd already scribbled down 'powdered root of asphodel' and 'bezoar' with spaces between them for the answers, and decided that sniggering behind his hand was appropriate.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book Longbottom? How about this: What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" The beaver-girl was literally out of her seat. Harry quickly scribed out 'difference between monkshook and wolfsbane'.

"I...I..."

"Sir, powdered root of asph..." the beaver started.

"I do not recall giving you permission to speak Granger, five points from Gryffindor. For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why are only Potter and Goyle copying this down?" There was a sudden rummaging for paper and quills. "And five points to Slytherin for each of you."

They were put into pairs and set about mixing a potion that, if made properly, would cure boils...the key words in the instructions being 'if made properly'. Snape swept around, watching everything and everyone, and finding things to criticize about everywhere except the cauldrons of Malfoy and Harry. He didn't bring any attention to Harry, instead telling the class to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs...at which point Longbottom managed to melt the cauldron he was using and mayhem ensued until Snape cleared the spilled potion away. Unfortunately, the idiot boy managed to get covered in an improperly made and incomplete version of the potion, and was breaking out in painful-looking boils.

"Idiot boy!" Snape rounded on Longbottom. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" The boy just whimpered, and Snape turned with disgust to his partner. "Take him up to the hospital wing." He turned away, towards the beaver and her flame-haired partner. "You – Weasley – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Or you Granger, as you seem to know so much about potions. Thought he'd make you two look good? That's another five points each from Gryffindor." And he turned away from them.

"Come on Harry." Gregory nudged him, putting the snake fangs he had just crushed into their cauldron. Harry turned back, and they finished the potion together, stoic Gregory and concentrating Harry.

---------------------------

"Potter. Stay behind." Snape said as he dismissed the class. Harry nodded for Gregory to follow Draco, and waited at their table for everyone else to file out and for Snape to close the door. "I've had an interesting conversation with your roommate." Snape settled himself behind his desk, motioning for Harry to approach. Harry did so with a great deal of trepidation.

"Sir?" Harry asked, trying to keep the still-present fear out of his voice. The two had spent a week building a student-teacher and Head-first-year relationship that wasn't clouded by the past, and it was...fragile...to say the least. Snape was still apt to respond a bit more harshly when Harry did something reminiscent of his biological father, though for his part Harry had taken to watching Snape like a hawk and noting those behaviors, having no desire to follow in his father's footsteps.

"He tells me he's woken you from nightmares every night this week." Snape replied, watching Harry with a gaze that was lowered just enough to not be threatening. Harry blushed and looked down. "Would you like these nightmares to stop?" Harry's head shot up at those words, and he nodded, unable to speak. "You will come here every Monday and Thursday at six. If anyone inside Slytherin asks I am tutoring you because you were raised by muggles. If anyone outside Slytherin asks these are remedial potions lessons. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded, but was a little confused. "Why sir?" He asked.

"I am going to be teaching you a version of something called Occlumency." Snape said calmly. "It isn't something the ministry wants students taught, and I believe the Headmaster would be unhappy were he to find out I were teaching you." Snape held eye contact with Harry as he spoke. "It will be hard, but if you master this skill I believe it will help you control the nightmares in a manner much more healthy than the constant use of dreamless sleep potions." Harry nodded. "As an asside, I will also be tutoring you because you were raised by muggles." There were levels of information there that Harry didn't have access to...and wasn't sure he wanted access to either...at least not yet.

"You should know that this will take a long time to become useful. There is groundwork that must be laid out, but if you work hard it should help. If you must you may come to me for a dreamless sleep potion, but I would prefer that you did not become dependent on them as persistent use may cause addiction, it will make you dependent on it, something I am sure you would not like to become." Snape's gaze was becoming a little unsettling, but Harry nodded nonetheless.

"Can we start now sir?" He asked, and Snape nodded.

"I would like you to attempt to clear your mind. If you think of something, label it as a thought and let it go. If you feel an emotion, label it as such and let it go." Harry nodded and closed his eyes to better focus. It was hard, and he could feel his brow starting to furrow.

"Relax mister Potter." For once Snape's voice held nothing of irritation. In fact, what his tone closest resembled was wry amusement. "Just let things go, don't dwell on them, but don't try to force them away. Let your mind become blank. If it helps focus on one thing and every time something interferes just bring that thing back into focus." Harry tried that, and found it a bit easier. He stood there in the potions classroom, trying to empty his mind, and after a little while he heard Snape start muttering under his breath.

_He was sitting in the transfiguration classroom listening to Professor McGonagall talk about the theory of changing one thing to another. _He brought his attention to his breath, leaving the memory for the very real potions classroom. _Dudley was standing over him, fist raised. _His heart was starting to beat faster. _Petunia was yelling at him. _He was starting to feel dizzy, but he was back in the potions room again, panting. The muttering had stopped, and he slowed his breathing, focusing on it and not letting his mind wander.

"Very good, mister Potter." Snape's voice penetrated his awareness like a friendly bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He looked up, strangely calm. "I would like you to practice clearing your mind. Every time you see a window empty your mind, and practice for at least five minutes before you go to bed each night."

"Yes sir." Harry said, then smiled a shy smile. "Thank you."

"Dismissed." Snape's mouth quirked up for a second as Harry grabbed his bag and walked decorously out.

--------------

"You okay that I talked to him?" Harry and Gregory were sitting on their beds, tossing a small, fuzzy, green ball Gregory's parents had sent with a note telling him it made amusing sounds when bounced off Gryffindor heads, back and forth.

"Yeah. You did the right thing." Gregory's face relaxed, though Harry hadn't noticed it was tense until the tension left.

"Glad you're not mad."

"Why would I be mad?" Harry was enjoying the feeling of the silk pyjamas Draco had insisted he wear in case he had to leave his room without changing. "You were trying to help, and you did."

"Boys shouldn't be scared of anything." Gregory shrugged, and Harry knew he was spouting parental blather. It was interesting how similar muggles and wizards were in many ways.

"Everyone's scared of something. 'Sides, if you hadn't gone to Professor Snape eventually everyone'd figure something was going on. This way he helps me fix 'em before the whole school's talking about how the 'Boy Who Didn't Know How To Die' is having nightmares about his scary-bad muggle caretakers. Whoooooooohhhhhhh" There was a great deal of bitterness in his voice, bitterness, and sarcasm.

"Figure the Dark Lord was right, at least about muggles like yours." Gregory said with as much anger as Harry had sarcasm.

"Maybe." Harry replied, leaning back into the pillows piled at the head of his bed. "Don't know."

"Sleep?"

"Yeah Gregory. I gotta empty my mind for at least five minutes first though."

"Alright. Good night Harry."

"Good night Gregory."

That night the dreams took a while longer to come, something Gregory commented on when he woke Harry by climbing into his bed and gathering him into a hug. Harry had already accepted the explanation that he had a colicky three-year-old sister he helped take care of when his mother got overwhelmed. Harry just appreciated the fact that he finally had someone who cared about him, someone who tried to protect him, even, maybe especially, from his past.

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AN: Yeah, yeah, Snape teaching occlumency to a first-year would never-ever happen. Here's the reasoning behind it:

1: Harry is a Slytherin, and if it gets out that he's having nightmares the house looses standing, not to mention he gets picked on a lot more.

2: He doesn't know any other way. The theory is that if Harry learns occlumency, the higher levels in which someone literally puts away anything that contradicts a lie, he'll be able to push the memories away any time they crop up.

3: If Harry is constantly practicing clearing his mind (thus the instruction to do so whenever he sees a window) he'll get into the habit of constantly using this new skill, which will come in later in the story.


	5. Don't Get Caught

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I'm just an addicted fan who wants to see what happens when just one small...okay, a few pretty big...changes are made.

And a round of applause for imadoodlenoodle.

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Harry didn't have to wait long for their first flying lesson, all about learning how to ride and handle a broom. That first weekend the Slytherin quidditch team took the first-years out to the pitch and sent them up one by one to make sure they weren't going to embarrass their House later. When it was his turn he was a little nervous, being the only one who had never been on a broom before, but as soon as he'd pushed off the ground his worries had disappeared. Here was something he didn't have to learn how to do.

Stretched flat against his borrowed broom, Harry raced from one end of the pitch to the other, looped around the goal hoops, slaloming between them all at speeds that made his eyes tear even behind his glasses, before shooting back to the rest of the Slytherins a wide smile in place.

"Harry! Why didn't you tell us you could fly?" Draco shouted at him, grinning.

"Didn't know." Harry called back, his eyes shining. He dismounted with a decent amount of dignity, and walked over to Draco, Gregory, and Crabbe. Gregory reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, grinning.

"Hey Goyle, why're you his friend more than mine?" Draco asked, a lot of joking and a small amount of actual hurt in his voice.

Gregory shrugged. "He needs a friend more'n you. 'Sides, he's my roommate." He had fallen into a habit around Harry of placing himself directly on Harry's left, a little behind when there was room, not touching, not crowding, but being very real physical backup. Even though it had been less than a week, and Gregory was a lot like Dudley physically, Harry had gotten used to his presence, and no longer had the urge to freak out when he came close.

"Yeah, whatever." Draco was definitely sour. It was strange, the boy was perfectly happy to hang out with Harry, show clear House unity, but he couldn't get over the fact that Harry had 'taken' one of his 'cronies'. It was kind of like that time that one of Harry's classmates had said hi to him just as Dudley walked in- except that there was no way Goyle was going to get beat up by Malfoy.

"You lot!" The quidditch captain waved the first years over. "All of you can fly acceptably so we don't need to whip you into shape. You can go away now- except you Potter, you can stay here." He crossed his arms and waited for the other first-years to leave.

"Yes Flint?" Harry asked eventually, wondering why he was being kept back.

"I'm talking to Professor Snape. I want to try you out for the quidditch team. Natural fliers shouldn't go to waste, but you'll need a broom. You can of course borrow whoever's broom you replace, but that's a temporary fix." Flint was talking, and Harry had very little clue about what, but he nodded and looked like he understood, and when Flint let him go he hunted out Gregory- who had taken to their room to study- and pestered him with questions until he knew the rules of quidditch, why first-years didn't usually play on teams, and why borrowing a broom was a temporary fix.

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"Mister Potter." Professor Snape was lounging, and that was a terrifying sight, at his ease in a chair by the common room fire, with Flint relaxing into another chair nearby. Harry and Gregory walked into the common room together, Gregory slightly behind Harry. They'd actually talked about that too, because it made Harry uncomfortable. Gregory had insisted.

Both boys had changed for dinner and even without Draco and Crabbe they made a rather...haughty sight. Harry was wearing a pair of flowing silver pants, a vest-like shirt that shimmered between dark blue and black depending on the light, and a Slytherin-green robe left open, each button a coiled serpent. Gregory's attire was another version of his high-fashion biker, though with a psuedo-form-fitting shirt that made his extra flesh look a bit more like muscle, and no jacket.

Harry turned his attention to his Head of House, walking between chairs, couches, and a few misplaced cushions, with Gregory following that half-step behind him.

"Mister Goyle..." Snape began, getting ready to dismiss the boy...before Harry interrupted him. He had a habit of doing that, but never in front of anyone who wasn't a Slytherin.

"-Is here at my request." Harry sank onto the seat of a couch, Gregory sitting to his left. Flint and Snape looked taken aback and shared a look that said 'what have we gotten ourselves into' before turning back to the pair.

"Mister Flint informs me that you are a natural flier and that he wants you on the Slytherin quidditch team this year. He has also requested for you to have your own broom." Snape said, one eyebrow raising. "Do you have any idea what position you would be best in?"

"No sir, but I think I'd like to try for seeker." Harry replied, keeping his expression neutral when Snape raised his eyebrows and got a slightly distant, irked look in his eyes.

"It does run in your family." Snape said at length. "You will borrow Higgs' broom tomorrow and the rest of the team will put you through your paces. If you're good enough I'll see about getting you a broom." Snape rose, Flint, Harry, and Gregory an instant behind, and swept out. Flint grinned at Harry before heading off to his own studying.

"Huh." Gregory said eloquently. "Dinner?" It wasn't that he was dense. Harry had learned this. It was that he was practical. There was nothing either of them could do, it was dinner time, and both of them were hungry, therefore they should eat.

"Yeah sure." Harry headed for the door, Gregory half a step behind him.

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"Do you have any idea how many windows Hogwarts has?" Harry exploded into Snape's office, irked beyond belief by the day's classes and the fact that one Dumblyduck had finally decided to approach him. He had no proof, no reason, but something about the Headmaster just set him on edge.

"I hear you managed to acquire the seeking position on our quidditch team." Snape was leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled. His gaze took in Harry's outfit (green pants, silver shirt, school robes unbuttoned), with amused eyes.

"Yes sir." Harry flopped into a chair, letting his robes rumple beneath him.

"And you have been practicing clearing your mind?" Snape arched an eyebrow. His dungeon had no windows, but he had seen Harry pause in the Great Hall occasionally.

"Yes sir." Harry actually had the audacity to roll his eyes.

"And I can presume that your comment about the number of windows present at Hogwarts means you are not currently lying to me." Snape's voice had taken on a hint of steel.

"Lying? Why would I lie to you sir?" Harry asked, confusion and hurt plain in his voice. Snape simply regarded him coolly for a minute.

"And the nightmares?" Snape decided not to pursue the painful subject of lies and deceit. It was a current failing of his that he still did not trust Potter. He hoped that would come with time, but in the interim he didn't really expect a positive response to his question. Of course, he could always hope.

"Better sir. I've been sleeping longer each night before the 'mares come out to play." Harry used Gregory's nickname for his nightly terrors, and was rewarded with a very subtle twitch of the Professor's mouth.

"And during the day you strut around beside Draco Malfoy, making a show of arrogance and pride. Your roommate has given you his allegiance, taking it from said Malfoy during conflicts of interest, and the staff and students whisper that you may be the next _Dark Prince_. A coveted title indeed." An arched eyebrow begged the question behind the words.

"I believe my father has given up on rolling in his grave and has simply disowned me." Harry looked at his feet, then back into Snape's eyes. "Sir, I _have_ to act like this. I have to make it a habit. Otherwise I won't be coming back for a second year, I'll be dead."

"About that. Dumbledore seems to think you must return to the Dursley's every summer, something about the protection of love and whatnot. However, I believe something can be arranged with your housemates. After all, _we protect our own._" Snape's voice got very quiet, and very, very deadly, on the last four words, and Harry saw something behind his eyes, something he really didn't want to admit existed. And at that exact instant there was a knock on the door...followed by the door opening without permission. A head of red hair, skin covered in unsightly blemishes of the freckle variety, clothes just slightly ragged, poked in.

"Professor Snape sir?" The boy asked, looking around for him.

"Mister Weasley." Snape's voice was filled with ice. "Did you hear me say enter?" He rose from his desk, bating forwards like a specter of death.

"Um...no, sir?" The Weasley looked a little pale. Harry turned and leaned against Professor Snape's desk, an effort-full smirk plastered across his face.

"Was the door open?" Snape continued, now looming over the poor, frightened annoyance.

"No? Sir?" Weasley now looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

"Then why, mister Weasley, did you open the door?" Harry was surprised the boy was even still there and not halfway back to his common room, screaming in fear.

"I wanted to tell you that Malfoy tried to jinx me and you should do something about it. Sir." Weasley hastened to add on to the end of his sentence. Harry almost choked at the audacity of that statement...unfortunately he made some noise, and the Weasley boy looked around Snape and saw him. "Harry Potter? What's Harry Potter doing here?"

"That, is none of your concern mister Weasley." Snape said, moving to block his view and force him back through the door.

"Can I talk to him?" Weasley was now trying to push past Snape. "I'm supposed to be his friend."

"Excuse me?" Harry strode forwards, laying an invisible hand on Snape's arm to let him know Harry was going to join the conversation and he should let Weasley see him.

"Yeah. I was supposed to see you on the train." He didn't seem to realize what he was saying. "Actually, we, my family, were supposed to help you get onto the platform, you being raised by muggles and all. Because Hagrid told Dumbledore he forgot to tell you how to get on. He does that sometimes. Anyways I'm Ron." And the boy held out his hand, calm as can be.

Harry's smile when he took the boy's hand was...sadistic... "Harry, but you already knew that." He'd perfected that particular facial expression in the school bathroom a few years ago...with Dudley looking on in a fit of cousinly camaraderie...to keep a particularly annoying girl away from him. Apparently it didn't work so well on Weasleys.

"Hey, you wanna hang out? I don't mind that you're in Slytherin." The boy was rather dense. On retrospect Harry had to admit that the Longbottom boy probably had more intelligence than this one.

"No." The smile held.

"Huh?" Confusion, always amusing.

"No. I have no time, and no wish, to hang out with you." Harry let the smile drop. "Goodbye Ronald Weasley."

"Well who are you hanging out with then?" Somehow the Ron hadn't gotten the message, and his voice had gotten louder. "That stupid git Malfoy?" He'd opened his mouth to say more. He didn't get the chance.

"Five points from Gryffindor, and don't let me catch you insulting my students again mister Weasley." Professor Snape to the rescue. Harry was glad because he was getting angry...the kind of angry where he'd been known to blow things up accidentally when he was a kid. He did not need his friends hand-picked before he met them, and he did not need those picked friends insulting his chosen friends.

"May I go Professor?" He asked, his voice tightly controlled. He looked into Snape's eyes, and saw the recognition in them.

"Yes." There was a hidden warning in the Professor's eyes, _"don't get caught"_ it cautioned.

Harry nodded. He wouldn't get caught. That was one thing he was learning from Draco: Necessary to the Slytherin way of life was maintaining something the older students called 'plausible deniability' at all times. Draco had- of course- explained this concept with smaller words, namely 'you were never there, and there are at least two other people who can prove you were somewhere else'.

It was a little strange that Harry was so angry at such a small thing, but he was. After all, he had friends. He didn't need a Gryffindor who had apparently been _told_ to befriend him hanging around. That was it, the stupid boy had been _told_ to befriend him, as though he couldn't make friends on his own, as though he was a scared, weak, child who could only have been completely destroyed by his Uncle Vernon. Of course, in a way he had, but the only people who knew about that were Gregory and Professor Snape...and apparently someone else.


	6. The Blaise Chapters 1

Disclaimer: Standard.  
Imadoodlenoodle is awesome.

I thought I put this up three days ago. Apparently that didn't happen. Sorry folks.

This chapter is a bit different. It's a different point of view, Blaise Zabini's to be precise. I will say this now: Blaise is a girl. Blaise is a girl because I want her to be a girl. I know she's a he in later cannon, but that wasn't always apparent, and I want to have fun with Blaise being a girl.

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Blaise Zabini was a cautious person by nature. She didn't jump into things, nor did she wait so long that opportunities passed. So when Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was sorted into Slytherin she did not immediately jump him. Instead she waited, and she watched, and when she thought she had enough information she sat down to decide what to do.

You see, Blaise Zabini had a secret...or twenty...or however many secrets a really secretive person has...which is to say that Blaise Zabini had a lot of secrets, but one of those was that her only loyalty was to those she considered family, which is a deadly secret when one, or one's family, is in service to a Dark Lord...or any legillimens really. And yet another of her secrets, and one she intended to keep very secret, was that she was a ventriloquist. Now you may laugh, you may ask why ventriloquism is such an important secret. Well, you'll find out.

Blaise Zabini's roommate was not Pansy Parkinson. Had Blaise Zabini's roommate been Pansy Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson would have been dead within two days. No, Blaise Zabini's roommate was the soft spoken, brutally strong, conscience-lacking Kira White. Kira White was the perfect roommate for Blaise Zabini, and was, in fact, a good friend as well. Blaise Zabini was perfectly happy to equate her relationship with Kira White to that between Harry Potter and Gregory Goyle.

And so it was that Blaise Zabini and Kira White came to be sitting with Gregory Goyle when Harry Potter stalked into the common room on the second Monday night of the term, the promise of death on his face.

-*-*-*-*-

"Harry?" Goyle's slow, concerned drawl seemed to settle across the angered boy like marionette strings that had just been cut. Potter collapsed, not even bothering with a chair, just falling to the ground with a frustrated sigh and stretching across the floor in a parody of a corpse.

"Should we come back another time?" Blaise asked, watching Potter with absolutely no expression on her face.

"Dunno." Goyle got up and walked the two steps to kneel next to Potter, putting one hand gently on his shoulder. "Harry?"

"Ron Weasley is a dead man." The voice that issued from Potter's mouth was completely devoid of any emotion whatsoever, and at the same time conveyed a level of rage that seemed impossible to contain in a single, mortal vessel. Blaise could sense the hunt in his voice, and a thrill washed through her. She had been right to approach Potter.

"Care to share?" She asked languidly, not bothering to get up. Potter lifted his head just high enough to see her, giving her the sort of glare that was part confusion, part annoyance, and mostly rage.

"Who the heck are you?" Potter growled, keeping his eyes on her.

"Zabini, Blaise Zabini, this is Kira White." Blaise sent out an air of unruffled calm, a hint of arrogance, and a small amount of feminine power. For a long time she'd wondered why she was a girl...then she'd learned about the power women had over men. She still didn't care all that much for her gender, but she wasn't repulsed by her own body any longer, at least not enough to find a way to change it. She figured she'd be fine as a boy or a girl, but she really didn't have a preference as to which.

"Well, Zabini, Blaise Zabini, I don't see why you think I'd like to 'care to share'." Oh, the boy had attitude. Blaise liked that. Not so much in the Malfoy boy, he was just arrogant, but Harry Potter was different somehow.

"I don't know." Blaise kept her eyes on Potter, lounging back into her chair and smiling a small smile that held a great deal of 'I know something you don't'. "Just thought you might like a hand in killing a Weasley. After all, I'm quite certain I have more experience in these matters than you do and I'm sure I'd enjoy it as much as you."

"And what makes you say that?" Potter was getting even more angry. It was fun to watch.

Blaise leaned forwards, getting her head as close to Potter as she could. "Because," she hissed at him, her manner secretive, "I grew up in the Dark Circles, learning the games of seduction and coercion, being taught all about breaking someone and rebuild them to your desires, on my mother's knee. And if you want to come visit Christmas or the summer holidays I'll happily show you all the boys I've practiced on." She raised her body just slightly, but still kept herself angled towards Potter.

The look in Potter's eyes was...interesting. He was working through his anger and starting to think. In fact, he was starting to plot as well. This was good, it meant he had enough Slytherin in him to keep them from loosing a large number of house points over his stupidity.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold." Potter said finally, rising with a sudden, almost graceful movement. When Potter rose so did Goyle, who followed him to the couch and set himself to the boy's left, just as Kira did for her.

"Good. You're thinking again. Now, spill." She sat back and waited for the whole story.

-----------------

The Zabini-White room looked a great deal like the Potter-Goyle room, except that the girls had pushed their desks together so that there wasn't a straight shot from the door to the bookshelf and wardrobes against the back wall, and a second bookshelf was placed between Blaise's desk and the wall, blocking that access to their beds. This was useful for many reasons, but the main one was that Pansy Parkinson had a habit of running in of a morning, happy to bounce on Blaise until she woke up.

Kira, on the other hand, was only a heavy sleeper between midnight and one in the morning, and was perfectly happy to wake up at the slightest hint of the door opening any other time, and hex whoever came though, something she'd learned living with three older and two younger brothers, and had taught to her two younger sisters.

"Well, what do you think?" Blaise asked, lounging on the floor, propped up against a pile of pillows she'd yanked off of her bed.

"Could do." Kira replied from her position sprawled face down across her bed, their charms book laid open in front of her. Coming from her that was actually very high praise- like Goyle Kira did not find any need in using more words than necessary, and so Blaise nodded, satisfied.

"I think I'll start talking to him tomorrow about how to go about this." Blaise pulled some parchment into her lap along with a strip of solid black wood, a quill, and blue-gray ink. A second later the scratches of her quill invaded the room as she started scribing out ideas for fun to be had with the Weasley boy.

"Just remember where he's from." Kira kept her eyes on her book, not flipping over with excited eyes to chat, nor turning away in surly rebellion. She was...stoic.

"If by that you mean the whole Godric's Hollow thing, I'm not sure I _can_ forget, at least not yet." Blaise snorted, shaking her head. "After all, the boy might very well be a line descendant of Godric Gryffindor himself. Mother never did trace the lines of purely Gryffindor or Hufflepuff families."

"Not rich enough?" Kira mused at her.

"Too goody-goody and too stupid actually." Blaise had stopped writing, and was sketching in a corner of the paper. She noticed, and put it down in disgust, closing her ink bottle and rising to put everything in its proper place in, or on, her desk. The parchment she left out as she walked around the barricade, wanting to review it before she actually went to sleep.

-------------

_Ronald Weasley__  
3 brothers attending__  
Percy → Prefect__  
Fred and George → Pranksters. Have been warned about them.__  
'Supposed to be Harry Potter's friend.'  
Why? __  
Who planted this idea? __  
Who are his friends? __  
What does he care about?_

Blaise tucked her notes into a journal her mother had given her many years ago, placing the paper, folded in half width-wise, in the very back of the hide-bound volume and watching it sink away into nothing before she closed the cover and tucked the book itself under the bed. She set her mind to figuring out how to best break Ron Weasley as she drifted off into sleep.

----------------

"Well, Zabini, Blaise Zabini..." c/o Star Trek: 2009. Captain Pike to Chekov.

A note on clothing: The ridiculousness that is the clothes Malfoy, Potter, Crabbe, and Goyle wear will be explained eventually. In the meantime is can has my fun?


	7. Don't Wanna

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not making moneys, yadda yadda.

Cheers to imadoodlenoodle.

----

"You are going to make friends with Ron Weasley, and you are going to like it." Harry walked into the common room on Tuesday morning to be greeted by Blaise, Kira standing behind her, Gregory was standing behind him. All four of them were wearing their school robes over various outfits. Harry noticed that Blaise had jeans on...comfortable looking jeans...that were blue, not silver, green, or black, and didn't look like they had snakes on them anywhere.

"Say what?" He asked when her words finally sank in.

"Well, we need to find out why he thinks he's supposed to be your friend. Also, we need to know more about what makes him tick, what scares him." Blaise grinned at him. "So you are going to become his friend. It's the only way."

"No." Harry crossed his arms and glared.

"Oh, Harry. Imagine how much worse it'll be when we break him if he thinks your his friend. Imagine the look in his eyes as he realises that his own _best friend_ is the one who is responsible for hurting him so." Blaise held his eyes with her own, and in them Harry could see the boy huddling on the ground.

"I want him gone. I don't want to play friends with him." Harry was still very twitchy. Really, the Weasley boy was an open book, but someone had decided that that particular open book was supposed to be his friend, and that made him nervous.

"No. You want answers. This is how you get those answers." Blaise crossed her arms, glaring.

"Fine." Harry didn't move.

"Good boy." Blaise turned to the door, Kira following. Harry looked at Gregory, then followed after the two girls, shaking his head slightly.

---------

Breakfast was uneventful, but their first class was charms...with the Gryffindors. Harry sat rather sulkily with Draco on one side and Gregory on the other as they practiced wand movements for a charm that made things jump, a precursor to making things fly. Harry could feel the Weasley boy's eyes flickering over him throughout the class, and sent the boy his own glances. Suffice to say, it was a rather unpleasant fifty minutes.

At the end of class Blaise poked Harry in the ribs hard enough that he was probably going to have a finger-shaped bruise on his side. He glared at her, she nodded at the Weasley annoyance, he sighed. The exchange would have been highly amusing-had he not been part of it.

Harry squared his shoulders, put a pleasant expression on his face, and walked calmly towards the Gryffindors, who were starting to stream towards the door. Gregory was in his usual place, a half-square behind and to the left, a bit closer than usual in the crush, but Harry was comforted by his being there. Gregory made very good backup.

"Weasley, _Ron._" Harry poked the flame-haired boy, though much more softly than Blaise had poked him. "I'll be your friend."

"Wha?" He had a look of complete confusion on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"We can be friends." Harry repeated, forcing himself not to lean back against Gregory in an attempt to get away from the boy.

"Wicked, Harry! Thanks!" The Weasley grabbed his bag. "I can't wait to tell mum and dad!" And he ran out.

"That was very nice of you mister Potter." Professor Flitwick was standing very close. Harry smiled at him, and turned, leading the way out of the classroom.

A little way down the hall Draco, Vincent, Blaise and Kira were waiting for him. He walked straight up to them, stopping when he was literally in the middle of the four.

"I think I'm going to be sick." He let a shudder run across his body. "This better be worth it Zabini."

"If information is worth it, then it will be." She turned suddenly, stopping Harry in his tracks. "Learn this now Potter. In Slytherin you do something right, or you don't do it. No rushing. You plan. You study. Then you act." She turned again and started walking off towards their next class. Harry just shook his head and followed.

-------

And so the days past, and Harry found himself spending a few hours a day with a very annoying redhead who seemed to think Harry was at all interested in what he was saying. The only bright spot there was the first flying lesson, set that Wednesday.

"Come _on_ Harry. We're going to be late." Draco stood in the door to Harry and Gregory's room, his impassive face lit slightly with excitement.

"I'm trying to find something to wear that isn't green, silver, black, or covered in snakes." Harry said calmly, looking through the clothes Draco had given him that first day.

"You won't find any." Draco replied, and Harry actually heard a bit of a sigh in his voice. "Just like Crabbe and Goyle won't find anything that doesn't make them look like a high fashion muggle biker or security guard." Somehow, Harry thought, Draco had gotten his hands on muggle magazines. He seemed to know quite a bit about them...or at least how they dressed.

"And why, might I ask, is that?" Harry pulled out a plain, green, button-up shirt and black pants.

"We're going to be late." Gregory said, standing up and tossing Harry's school robes to him.

"We're going to talk Draco." Harry said.

"Pfft. Right Harry. Because you know so much about fashion." Draco turned and started to walk out. Harry shrugged, following him down the hall, but moving to walk next to him once they were out of the common room.

"Come on Draco." Harry nudged his arm with an elbow. This was borderline behavior, something he'd learned in the first week. It was strange. Draco had never had a friend who could match him in power, nor one who wasn't cowed, either by him, his father, or his money. Yet here was Harry, completely immune to the intimidation, not after Uncle Vernon, and entirely unawed by massive amounts of money. Heck, he'd told Draco he was a spoiled brat the first day they'd met.

"Come on what?" Draco snapped slightly.

"Lighten up. We're about to shame all those Gryffindors." Harry grinned in a way reminiscent of a large cat about to eat something still living, and Draco let a smirk cross his face.

"Yeah. You're right." Suddenly he shook his head.

"Did it hurt?" Harry asked innocently.

"Saying you were right?" Draco looked over. "Very much so. You know I still haven't forgiven you for calling me a spoiled brat."

"And yet you gave me your clothes." Harry retorted. Draco was trying to teach him witty comebacks. It was a slow process.

"Harry, you just opened yourself up for at least five different insults." Draco sighed. "Really. What are we going to do with you?"

"Strip him and roast him over the common room fire?" Blaise said hopefully, joining their group, Kira and Pansy Parkinson with her.

"You wish." Harry said, flashing a grin that stuck to his face when he saw the rows of brooms.

"Alright you lot, everyone line up next to a broom." Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, strode towards the gaggle of Gryffindors and Slytherins that Harry and the others had just joined...precisely on time. "Now hold out your right hand, hold it over the broom and say 'up'."

"Up." Harry said, his broom jumping to his hand.

"Up." Draco's broom, too, responded.

"Up!" Blaise's voice had the tone of command that only long practice brought.

Crabbe, Gregory, well, pretty much everyone else, had some trouble. The Longbottom boy's broom never even moved. The Beaver's only rolled about on the ground.

When they were all, finally, holding brooms Madam Hooch told them to mount, walking up and down the lines, correcting grips. Draco had, apparently, been doing it wrong for years. His eyes when her back turned were...dangerous.

"Alright then, on the count of three you're going to push off, rise a few feet in the air, then fly straight back to the ground." She looked around, making sure they were all ready. "One. Two. Get down boy!" The Longbottom boy, probably afraid of falling or something like that, had pushed off early, and was soaring straight into the air. Ten feet, twenty feet. He had a look of absolute terror on his face as he slipped sideways and fell to the ground with a sickening crack.

Madam Hooch rushed over to him, turning him and checking for injuries. He was holding his wrist as though it hurt a lot.

"Broken wrist then. Come on, to the hospital wing." She turned to the rest of them. "You are to keep your shoes firmly planted on the ground, or you'll be out of here faster than you can say 'quidditch'." And she promptly turned and took Longbottom off.

"Look here," Malfoy darted forwards and scooped something off the ground. "Longbottom dropped something."

"That's Neville's remembrall, give it back." The beaver said, her voice managing to be commanding, haughty, and afraid all at once.

"I know, I'll leave it somewhere for him." Draco's smile was decidedly viscous. "Like up in a tree."

"Harry, do something." Ron the annoying Weasley boy said.

"At least take your shoes off Draco, you heard her." Harry said languidly. Draco snapped his head around, shocked that Harry had come up with something both mean and witty on such short notice.

"Nice one Harry, you're finally getting there." Draco said, grinning. Ron just stared at him incredulously, and Blaise poked him, hard, in the ribs. Harry sighed. He really, really, didn't want to do the 'right' thing. Draco was probably testing him too. Suddenly Ron lunged for Draco, who jumped back, a look of surprise on his face. Ron, unbalanced, fell to the ground.

"It's not necessary to kiss my robes Weasley, but thank you for the sentiment." Draco smirked, the other Gryffindors looked ready to kill, and Ron pushed himself to his feet with a look of mingled disgust, fury, and embarrassment coloring his face, a compliment to his hair.

"Alright boys and girls." Madam Hooch was back. "Let's try that again."

----------

"So Weasley can fly, there's actually something the beaver can't do, and Gryffindors will always snitch." Draco, still annoyed about having Longbottom's ball confiscated, was flopped in the well-lit alcove that had become a regular meeting place for the six first-years; Harry, Gregory, Draco, Crabbe, Blaise, and White. His butt was squarely planted on the Slytherin crest of one of the large pillows that were now a fixture of the common room. Even Professor Snape had gotten used to them, though he still sneered slightly when he caught any upper years using them.

"Indeed. Harry, why didn't you intervene, remember, Weasley is _'good,' _which means, as his friend, he expects you to be. Expects you to do 'the right thing.' So, why? " Blaise asked, a notebook open in front of her, her back against the wall.

"Because I wanted Draco to have his fun. I'm tired of this Blaise. He has no brains, no ability to plan. He's never had to work for anything in his life, never gone hungry, never been punished past a lecture. "Plus," Harry's eyes took on a particularly sulky look, "his hair gives me a headache."

**AN: *goes to huddle in a corner with a caffeine headache***


	8. Hagrid

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I'm just an addicted fan who wants to see what happens when just one small...okay, a few pretty big...changes are made.

------------------

"His _hair_ gives you a headache." Blaise was incredulous, her voice was icy. Blaise looked like she really, really wanted to hurt Harry. Draco just snorted, but then covered it up with a cough. _Malfoy's do not snort._

"That's so true." Draco, it appeared, had no clue that his own hair was just as brilliant, if not more so.

"So, Blaise, now that you have all this information on the Weasley's friends, family, and fears, can I get rid of him? Like, really really soon? Maybe even right now? I don't mind going, I fancy a walk in fact." Harry looked hopefully at Blaise who merely shook her head slightly. Harry leaned back against a sideways stack of three pillows dejected, looking around at the group that he'd fallen in with.

"Soon." Blaise grinned. "But right now I have to go. I have a meeting." She stood up, Kira with her, and the two strode towards the girl's dorms.

"So, Harry." Draco's eyebrows flashed up, a quirk of his that Harry found to be signs of arrogance...not that Draco was ever not arrogant. "Going to start hanging out with the Gryffindors even more now?" Oh yes, he was hurt about all of this.

"Actually, no Draco." Harry flipped his unruly hair, attempting to get it out of his eyes. It didn't work. "I was planning on hanging out with you."

---------

That Friday morning a tawny owl flew down to land in front of Harry, a message clamped in its beak.

_Harry,_

_I'd like to hear how your first two weeks have been. Why don't you come down to my cabin after your last class and we'll have tea? You can bring your friend, Ron, if you like._

_-Hagrid _

There was a snort to his right, and Harry looked over to see Draco reading the note.

"Brilliant. Everyone wants to be Harry Potter's friend." Draco looked away, but Harry saw something that wasn't arrogance.

"Wanna come along?" He asked, pulling out a quill, some ink, and a scrap of parchment. The owl was sitting on his plate drinking from Gregory's pumpkin juice.

"To see the big oaf? Not on your life." Draco snorted. Harry looked over at Gregory, who nodded.

_Hagrid,_

I_'d love to come down after class. I hope you don't mind if I bring Gregory with me? I'll see what Ron is doing._

_-Harry_

"Ron? You're actually going to ask and take Ron Weasley?" Draco stared.

"Yeah. We usually hang out after classes and Hagrid seems to think we're friends." Harry shrugged. "I really hope Blaise teaches me to break him soon." That brought a smile to Draco's lips.

"As long as you're not actually friends." Across the table Blaise snorted into her cereal.

"Friends?" She wiped her mouth on a napkin. "Where have you been Draco? He's been complaining practically nonstop." She paused. "At least, when he's not talking about quidditch."

"I talked to Flint a few days ago." Draco perked up at this. "He says Professor Snape ordered you a Nimbus Two Thousand. That's the best broom there is."

"Yes, and his exact words were: If we don't win every match I'm putting him on a broken down shooting star." Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, stood behind them. "Malfoy, I left my transfigurations essay on my desk. Go grab it." Flint turned away, completely ignoring the look of stuttering indignation overwhelming Draco's face. They _had_ been warned at the beginning of the year. In fact, Harry had already been sent on two errands, Crabbe and Gregory each had five or so, even Blaise had been instructed to carry one of the older girl's books for a time. It was hazing.

"No." Draco's voice was completely disrespectful. He was, in that moment, entirely the spoiled rich brat Harry had met that day at Madam Malkin's. Harry gulped as Flint turned to stare a Draco.

"Malfoy, I don't think you want to know what happens to Slytherins who refuse to participate in this little ritual." Others were gathering, subtly, but gathering. "Everyone goes though it. You are the last in your year to be sent on an errand, and this one is small." Other owls started fluttering in. Hagrids had, apparently, a very bad sense of time.

"Malfoys are no one's errand boys." Draco's head was up, his eyes flashing in indignation.

"You will be my errand boy if I say so." Flint stalked into Draco's bubble, looming over him like a gargoyle come to life.

At that exact moment a large owl with jet black feathers, and Harry had a feeling that particular feat was accomplished by magic, dropped a letter into Draco's hand. Draco sent one haughty look at Flint, and lazily opened the letter, starting to read with an expression that said 'I'm better than you and I know it'.

As Draco read he started to pale. Then, surprisingly, his hands started to shake. But what came next was the real shock.

"Yes mister Flint." Draco turned and walked quickly out of the great hall, Crabbe hurrying to catch up, a half-eaten pastry in his hand.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Malfoys do not take well to hazing." A fifth year, Urhat Desimont, said. "So we owled his father. That's why it took so long. We had to set everything up so that the letter came precisely when he was given a task."

"Thank you, Desimont." Flint looked over at the older boy, his tone saying quite clearly 'shut up'. "Come on Potter, team meeting." But Harry wasn't listening.

"How'd you guys know to do that though?" Harry was staring at the older students.

"From The Slytherin's Guide to Habitually Slytherin Families of course." Desimont said with a shrug.

"The what?" Harry asked.

"The Slytherin's Guide to Habitually Slytherin Families." Flint grabbed the shoulder of his robes and started -discreetly- dragging him towards the rest of the team. "I'll show you mine later."

********&&&&&&&********

"Harry! Glad you could make it!" Hagrid's smiling face loomed over Harry and Ron as he let them into his hut, Gregory had detention with Professor Snape...for getting caught dropping a slug in the beaver's cauldron. "Make yourselves at home." He was holding the collar of an enormous boarhound. "Back Fang." Somehow he failed to mention the fact that Gregory wasn't there.

"This is Ron." Harry said as the two sidled in.

"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid let go of Fang, who immediately trotted over to Ron and started slobbering on him. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." He passed them a plate of rock cakes and started pouring tea into large mugs.

"Yeah. Well." Ron was a bit uncomfortable.

"Harry I'm sorry." Hagrid sat down, passing mugs to each of them. "I was supposed ter warn you about Slytherin, but it never came up. You getting on okay there?"

"Yeah. I'm fine Hagrid." _Warn me? Warn me about what? _Harry kept his voice calm, but what he really wanted was to yell at both of them that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Slytherin. "Really."

"Well Harry, if you need anything you know where to find me." Harry really didn't think he was going to take Hagrid up on that. He looked around, trying to keep his anger down, and saw a cutting from the _Daily Prophet._ He skimmed it, then looked up.

"Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have been happening when we were there!"

"Really?" Ron said, looking over the scrap of parchment. "Cool." But Hagrid wasn't meeting his eye, and Harry's head was starting to hurt. Battling through the ache, Harry stayed for another half an hour, talking about all his lessons and how he was finding them.

"Hey, thanks for tea Hagrid, but I gotta run. Quidditch." He rose.

"Well, alright then." Hagrid looked at him a bit mournfully.

"Okay if I stay?" Ron asked Hagrid, much to Harry's relief.

"Yeah sure, I can show you..." Harry walked out, the door cutting off Hagrid's words.

**&&**&&**&&**

"Hey Draco, Crabbe." Harry stepped through the wall and into the Slytherin common room, unbuttoning his school robes and flopping into an armchair in the same grouping as the two they were inhabiting. The common room was virtually empty as it was still pretty early.

"Hey Harry!" Draco gave him an absent nod and turned back to the chess board Harry had just noticed sitting between them. He gave a knight instructions before turning his attention away again. "How was the big oaf?"

"Oafish?" Harry didn't know what else to say. "How's the game going?"

"Gamish?" Draco mocked. "Wait, what are you wearing?" Harry had gotten tired of only wearing Slytherin colors, and had asked a Hufflepuff first-year about his size (who he'd had a decent conversation with in the boy's bathroom once, and who happened to be muggleborn) if he could borrow a shirt. He had informed the boy that he didn't care what the shirt looked like as long as it had no green, silver, or black in it. The shirt he'd gotten was light blue with a picture of a twenty-sided die and the words 'That's How I Roll' printed in white lettering, and not even Slytherin pride would make him refuse to wear it.

"I got tired of wearing only Slytherin colors so I borrowed a shirt." Harry said, shrugging, with a glint of rather evil amusement in his eyes.

"And you wore **that**?" Draco seemed more appalled than he should, by all rights, have been. "Did anyone **see** you wearing that?"

"Well, I made Professor Snape choke during potions." Harry feigned innocence.

"So that's why he looked like someone had hit him with something heavy." Draco looked amused. "But still."

"Draco. I'm tired of only wearing Slytherin colors and designs." Harry said plaintively. "Where's my old clothes?"

"Oh. I had Dobby burn those." Draco said in an offhand manner, he shrugged, still concentrating on the game.

"Burn them?" Harry shot to his feet. "Why?"

"Well, you can't be seen in them, so why keep them?" Draco was clueless when he wanted to be.

"And what am I supposed to do over the summer? I can't wear these," Harry plucked at the pants he had on (black), "at the Dursley's. They'll destroy them."

"We'll get you something grungy that fits." Draco shrugged. "Over winter holiday or something. If not then, then we can go during the Easter break. You're invited for both, by the way. "

"No Slytherin colors." Harry growled. "And we're getting new school clothes while we're at it." He was really the only one in their year who could stand up to Draco...and he could do it well.

"That, you'll have to take up with my mother." Draco sounded...scared?

"What does your mother have to do with any of this?" Harry asked.

"_Everything_." Crabbe said quietly and, shocking Harry, who had barely heard ten words out of him in two weeks. He looked up from the chess board, met each of their eyes, nodded to himself, and looked back at the board.

**AN: Okay, getting bored, so I'm probably going to skip over to halloween next chapter or the one after. **

**And don't worry, eventually we'll break Ron. In the meantime he gets to be annoying. **

**For those of you who don't like Blaise: Probably a good thing. She's...not quite psychopathic, but completely amoral. **


	9. Halloween

Disclaimer: [Insert standard disclaimer here]

AN: Imadoodlenoodle is awesome beyond belief. She is my wonderful-lovely beta, and is solely responsible for the ending of this chapter.

**&&**&&**

Perhaps it was because he was practicing quidditch two hours a night, three nights a week and four hours each weekend. Perhaps it was that he had piles of homework. Perhaps it was that the nightmares were coming less and less frequently. Perhaps it was that, for the first time in his life, Harry Potter had friends. Whatever it was, it left Harry with a distinct feeling of being _home_. Hogwarts felt more like a home than Privet Drive ever could. Even with the hazing, even with the jabs from a young mister Malfoy, the constant hints from Ron and Hagrid that he was somehow deficient for being sorted into Slytherin. Even with all of that Harry was happy.

On Halloween morning Professor Flitwick announced that they were ready to make things levitate.

"And don't forget the wand movements we've been practising. It's swish, and flick. You can't just say the words, you've got to have the correct wand movements as well. Why, I could tell you a number of stories about people that have not performed the spell correctly, either by not pronouncing their words properly or by not having the correct wand movements. It's the little things that make the big things happen children. Swish and flick!" And on he spoke about some wizard or other and a buffalo, but Harry was just happy. He sat next to Gregory, the two of them getting ready in companionable silence, to attempt to make a feather fly without being attached to a bird.

"Wingardum Leviosa!" Harry swished and flicked but nothing happened.

"Win-gar-dum Lev-i-o-sa." Gregory's slow speech, his ponderous movements, had the same lack of effect.

"You're saying it wrong." Harry heard the beaver, Granger was it? Snap at Ron. He nudged Gregory on his left and Draco on his right. Draco nudged Crabbe, while Harry turned to poke Blaise and Kira. The six of them watched in amusement as the beaver pissed the flame-head off. She really didn't understand how her attitude put people off..._'Kind of like Draco,'_ Harry mused to himself.

Harry and the others turned their attention back to their own feathers, and by the end of class both Harry and Blaise had managed to make their feathers float, though not so dramatically. They could, of course, have attempted to show off...if they hadn't been Slytherins. Instead Harry stayed back, Gregory at his side.

"Professor?" Harry asked as the class filed out. "May I borrow a feather to practice with?" The feathers they had been using were vastly different from all of his quills, they were designed specifically for such a class. They floated much more easily than the bird-of-prey feathers traditionally used as quills.

"Of course mister Potter." Professor Flitwick seemed...excited...to be asked a favor from the Boy-Who-Lived. Or he might have been pleased that someone was trying to perfect their charm skills, either way it was apparently enough to make Gregory chortle.

**&&**

"Hey Potter!" Draco, silver cuffs barely and intentionally poking out of his school robes waved to Harry from his seat in History of Magic. "Harry, you won't believe this." Draco lowered his voice to a whisper when Harry and Gregory were close enough to hear. "Weasley made the Granger girl cry, and I hear she's hiding in a bathroom." Harry snorted.

"Nice." Harry giggled -in a manly fashion of course,- to himself as he sat down, Gregory beside him, looking a bit more surly than usual. "Greg'ry, what's up?" Harry whispered to him.

"'s not so funny." Gregory murmured back, making sure Draco couldn't hear.

Harry sighed a bit, but nodded. "You're right." He thought for a minute as the droning voice of Professor Binns washed over him. "If we don't see her at the feast do you want to go find her?"

Gregory shook his head. "Prolly not." He turned to his notes, writing down much of what Professor Binns said, but also referencing his textbook. To anyone else, even the other Slytherins, he wasn't paying any attention, but Harry knew better. He was only passable at most of the classes, but Gregory loved history. It was because, for him at least, history wasn't just facts, it was stories as well and Gregory was fantastic at remembering things if he could clearly see the beginning, middle and end. Not even a ghost who should have been fired long ago could make the subject boring for him, and it was getting Harry through the class so he didn't mind.

**&&**

The rest of the day passed quickly, and Harry soon found himself walking into a changed Great Hall. There were thousands of live bats fluttering around, carved pumpkins with candles inside were sitting on trays surrounded by their own seeds that were roasted in various flavorings...including teriyaki, nutmeg, and strawberry.

The feast appeared suddenly, as it had on the first night, and Harry had just loaded his plate when poor, stuttering, useless Professor Quirrell, who gave him the creeps and watched him behind his back, came sprinting in, turban askew, looking terrified.

"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." The stupid man cried out before fainting in the middle of the hall. Panic ensued, ended by Headmaster Dumbledore, who shot purple firecrackers out of his wand.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately! Teachers with me."

Harry frowned. The troll was in the dungeons? As in, where the Slytherin dorms were? Where Dumbledore was expecting the prefects to lead them back to? Harry wasn't a coward, but he didn't really want to meet a troll. Suddenly, Harry remembered the earlier History class.

Harry immediately reached out a hand to grab the panicking Draco. Gregory was looking at him expectantly.

"What?" Draco snapped.

"The Granger-beaver doesn't know." Harry said.

"And what are we supposed to do about that?" Draco snapped. "Am I supposed to care if a stupid mudblood dies because she's too stupid to come to a Halloween feast? If we go after her, we could meet the troll and be clubbed to death. Trolls don't speak English Harry, it won't understand when you scream that you don't want to hurt it. Yes, yes, that's a rule now Harry- I won't face anything unless I can understand it! So, I guess we'd better get back to the dorms." Draco turned around and was about to join the rest of the Slytherins when Crabbe said something that shocked them all.

"I speak Troll." Crabbe said quietly.

...

"_Get out!_" Blaise had been listening in. "This, I want- have to see. Let's go find that little girl."

"Heck no! I'm going back to the common room!" Draco ran towards their prefect.

"What about your rule Draco?" Harry shouted after him.

"I said, if _I_ understood it. Which I won't. I'll see you guys later. You never know, you might not get _too_ bashed up, you might get an open casket funeral." With that, Draco disappeared into the middle of the Slytherin crowd. Blaise looked at Kira who shrugged, so the five of them slipped away, tagging on to the end of the line, pretending to follow the other Slytherins before slipping away once they were out of direct sight of the adults.

The five of them crept down a deserted corridor, and hurried off to the girl's bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them. All five jumped behind a large stone griffin that didn't truly conceal their rather large number. However, though Harry, who was the last to hide, saw Professor Snape, the man was a bit to preoccupied to notice his errant students.

"That was Professor Snape!" Harry hissed.

"What's he doing?" Blaise asked.

"Search me." Kira shrugged.

"Beaver." Gregory said, pointing towards the girl's bathroom. A shared rolling of eyes, and they got back to the task at hand.

They were almost at the bathroom when a foul stench washed over them. Rattling down the corridor, a low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet.

"And that would be the girl's bathroom." Blaise said, watching the troll with mingled horror and fascination. "Crabbe, you're on."

Crabbe stepped forwards without hesitation, a strange, surprisingly low grunt emerging from his mouth. He moved forwards, his body slumped in a mirror of the troll, grunting slowly. After a few seconds the troll emerged from the bathroom, scratching its head and looking at Crabbe in confusion.

While Crabbe got the troll turned back the way it had been and held its attention Kira and Harry shuffled into the bathroom. At the same time Blaise and Gregory held their wands at the oblivious troll's back.

"Granger." Harry hissed into the bathroom. "Be quiet and come on, there's a troll."

"What are you talking about Potter?" The beaver walked out of a stall, angry and loud. "There is no way a Troll could get into Hogwarts."

Of course, said nonexistant troll heard her.

"Bloody hell you stupid mudblood!" Blaise yelled from outside and across the hall, re-distracting the troll and insulting the beaver at the same time.

"Oh. Oh my." And then the beaver screamed.

"Damnit! Kira." Harry gestured, and the large girl grabbed the slight beaver by the arm and started bodily dragging her out.

They got Granger into the hall while Crabbe yelled at the troll in trollish. It started swinging its club, and the children realized that however stupid it was it could do serious damaged. Harry, Blaise, and Kira darted around the troll sending sparks out of their wands at it and yelling. Somewhere behind them Harry heard Granger walking Gregory through the levitation charm, and then Gregory's voice.

Suddenly the troll's club flew straight into the air. It hovered over the troll's head for a moment, then fell, knocking the troll senseless.

There was a moment of absolute silence.

"Huh. Go weighted clubs." Blaise said.

"What is...oh my." The sound of Professor McGonagall's voice penetrated the scene, the Professor herself hard on its heels. She walked up to them, closely followed by Professors Snape and Quirrel. Professor Quirrel took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and leaned against the wall.

Professor McGonagall bent over the troll while Professor Snape stared at the six of them with her arms crossed.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor Snape asked after a minute, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Granger didn't know about the troll sir." Blaise stepped forwards. "And Crabbe speaks troll so when I said I was going to warn Granger he offered to come along. Goyle came with him, White came with me, and Potter came with Goyle." She crossed her own arms, glaring up at their Head of House.

"And why did miss Granger, who knows everything, not know about the troll?" Snape rounded on the shaking Gryffindor.

"Don't make her answer that question sir." Harry stepped forwards, meeting his Head's eyes and letting his gaze plead for him. "Everyone is safe. It doesn't matter."

Time passed in tense silence.

"Very well. All of you get back to your common rooms." Professor Snape said in a more normal tone. "The Headmaster will, of course, be informed."

**&&**

"Crabbe, after Granger screamed what did you say that got the trolls attention and angered it so much?" They were sat in the common room on the cushions and Harry thought he might as well ask while he still remembered.

Crabbe shifted, shrugged and mumbled something under his breath. Not quiet enough, however, for Harry not to hear it.

"You insulted him with a 'yo mama' joke?! In troll?!"


	10. What Were You Thinking?

Disclaimer: Standard

Beta'd by the lovely, wonderful, amazing imadoodlenoodle.

**&&**&&**^^**&&**&&**

"What, precisely, were you thinking? Mister Potter." Harry was standing in Professor Snape's office the day after the Troll Incident, as he and the others were now calling it.

"Honestly sir, we didn't expect to find the Troll." Harry suddenly remembered Blaise's words and shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I didn't expect to find the troll. Miss Zabini probably wanted to a little because mister Crabbe had just told us he could speak Troll, but mister Goyle and I just wanted to make sure Granger was safe." He settle into a pattern of speech he'd been taught by captain Flint for official situations. Of course, it was mostly applied externally, such as with parents, but it felt better at that moment.

"Very well." Professor Snape sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and glowering a bit. "You will tell me everything that happened. Then, if I have no questions, we can begin our lesson."

Harry found himself talking, starting with the charms class and Draco's comment about the beaver, and ending with the arrival of the professors. He left nothing out, including the fact that he'd seen Professor Snape himself, running away from the dungeons, and that he'd noticed his Head limping, though he'd told no one.

"And then mister Crabbe said 'your mother was a dwarf who couldn't even lift a club' in Troll, and it got really mad and started taking swings at us so Granger started telling mister Goyle how to do wingardum leviosa properly because she didn't have her wand, and he made the troll's club fly up and it fell on his head. Miss Zabini said 'Huh. Go weighted clubs.' And then Professor McGonagall showed up, and you and Professor Quirrel got there a second later." There was a moment of utter silence.

"Mister Goyle said what?" There was a note of something Harry would later come to learn was called disbelieving incredulity in his Head's voice.

"Your mother was a dwarf who couldn't even lift a club." Harry said. "Sir." Harry got to see his Head lower his head into his hands and groan in dismay.

"Very well." Professor Snape finally looked up. "I am satisfied that half of my first years should have been sorted into Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff, or anywhere but Slytherin. Now," he leaned forwards in one of his abrupt changes of topic, "how have your nights been?" Harry felt his mind wandering as it often did during these meetings, and brought it under his control, focusing on the room by counting the jars with weird things that he could see.

"It's been good sir." _Gregory clapped him on the back when he'd woken up for the ninth morning in a row without having disrupted their sleep. _"The nightmares aren't coming nearly as often." _Gregory was holding him as he thrashed his way into wakefulness, __flailing and shaking in terror. _"But when the do come they're just as bad." _Gregory was stroking his back as he shook with reaction._ Harry shook off the memories, focusing on Professor Snape's hands, counting the seconds between each twitch.

"And your classes?" _Draco's smirk, Gregory's history notes, the comfort of being part of a group._

"They're going well sir." _Studying late at night, curled by the fire in the common room long after most of the first-years had given up, being tutored by the older students. _

"And your friends?" _Blaise's notes on absolutely everyone. _It was interesting what he associated each question with. Classes was flashes of noticing things about his friends, friends was the pranks, and worse than pranks, planned for not-friends. Harry shook his head to clear it.

"My friends are doing good." Harry smiled. "Even if Draco's still a spoiled brat." He felt the slight pressure that was always there when his mind wandered let up, and he immediately oriented himself to the room.

"Sit, mister Potter." Professor Snape gestured towards a chair placed to the side of the desk, turning it with a flick of his wand so that it faced his own chair. Harry walked over with no hesitation and sat down, resting his hands on his knees. "It has been almost precisely two months since you came to this school." It was a statement, an introduction to a conversation that entered into unknown territory. "And each day that passes I see you, at meals, in my classroom, here as we are today, and part of me sees your father." Harry did not speak. Speaking would be bad. "When you do things like that rash and foolish run to save miss Granger from herself I see your father very clearly," he paused, "but I also see you." Professor Snape leaned forwards, locking his eyes to Harry's, his gaze different, intense, and a bit frightening.

"You have begun to change, mister Potter." A poignant pause, something much more than just a teacher-student relationship passing between them. It was as though connections could be passed through blood, as though the enmity between Severus Snape and James Potter had created a bond between Professor Snape and Harry Potter. "You are not a carefree, arrogant little toad." Bitterness like a sugar cookie dipped in firewhisky hung in the air. "You are not, your father, much as young mister Malfoy is attempting to turn you into him, though he is not aware of the similarities."

"The difference between you and mister Malfoy, or, for that matter you and your father, is that you wear your arrogance like a cloak and just as easily discarded, while they assume theirs like they were born with it already a part of them." These conversations were not all that unusual, though they usually stayed on slightly less...dangerous...topics. Harry knew that if he hadn't have been sorted into Slytherin then he and Snape would have never been able to create this fragile ease that existed between them.

What had started out as relatively simple lessons in mental control as an attempt to prevent the nightmares had evolved into strangely deep conversations that fluctuated between the original intent, lessons on surviving Slytherin and the world of pure-blood wizardry, and soul-baring sessions in which Harry got a chance to talk about his life with the Dursleys and Professor Snape was able to come to terms with the fact that he didn't absolutely despise the spawn of his childhood enemy. The subject of Harry's mother, however, did not come up.

"Speaking of cloaks," Harry chose to interrupt, knowing through that strange feeling he got during these sessions, that what needed to be said had been said and they should move on, "Do you have any idea what Draco's mother has to do with his ridiculous wardrobe?" Harry had been meaning to ask this for over a month, but it kept slipping his mind.

"Narcissa Malfoy, operates under the rule that anyone associated with her family must wear appropriate attire of an appropriate color, which has nothing to do with complexion, and such attire _must_ display an appropriate amount of wealth." Professor Snape straightened. "She has, since her marriage to Lucius Malfoy, hand-picked the wardrobe of everyone she has had over for dinner more than three times save her husband and myself. She has dressed the Crabbes and Goyles, the Parkinsons, though miss Pansy seems to have...modified her attire. I would caution you to keep quiet the amount of gold you hold in your vaults, otherwise Narcissa may insist on a month long excursion to every 'fashion capital' our world has to offer, in order to properly clothe you." Harry started grinning at this last sentence until Snape's face made him stop abruptly.

"You, you aren't serious? Are you?" Harry started to become worried.

"Mister Potter, am I known for my jests?" Snape gazed evenly back.

"She's already started to dress me." Harry pulled at the green sleeve underneath his robes, the embroidered silver snakes around the buttonholes all hidden by said robe. "How did you escape?" Harry looked beseechingly at his Head of House, maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for escape.

"I told her no, and I refused to let her pick even one garment for me, and believe me mister Potter, if she is allowed to select even one garment she will find a way to select them all." Professor Snape arched an eyebrow as Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm sick and tired of green, silver, and black." Harry raised his head. "And Draco looks horrible in his darker outfits. It makes him look like a corpse. I want something in a nice dark red, or jeans, jeans would be nice. I like jeans. I want to see Draco wearing light blue or green. Something happy!"

"Something similar to the – shirt – you borrowed earlier this year?" Professor Snape interrupted, his laughing eyes unamused.

"I would never expect him to wear a tee shirt." Harry said honestly. "That would be asking a bit too much. No, I just want him in something that isn't the same green, silver, or black." He thought for a minute. "And actually, really, I just want _me_ to have a choice of something else."

"Well then mister Potter, you have the unenviable goal of standing up to a woman more terrifying than an improperly brewed batch of Veritaserum – on the subject of clothing." Professor Snape smiled, and not in a very nice way, but strangely enough it was comforting. "I will, of course, inform the lady Malfoy that if she kills you she will have to purchase your coffin." Harry smiled at that, a soft huff of laughter escaping his lips.

"Now I do believe mister Goyle is about to knock on the door to inform you that it has been an hour and you promised to study history and charms with him after our meeting." Professor Snape gestured for him to rise, and sure enough there was a knock at the door seconds after he rose to his feet.

**&&**&&**&&**

"M-m-mister P-p-p-pot-t-ter. P-please st-tay after c-class." Professor Quirrel stuttered as the bells rang out the end of a rather dull DADA class. Harry packed his bag slowly, nudging Gregory towards the door and giving him a look that said 'wait please'. When the classroom was empty he turned to the turban'd man at the front.

"Yes Professor?" He kept his voice polite, but he was quite tense, and the scar on his forehead was stinging in a way that made him want to rip it off and feed it to the giant squid...not that that would do any good- or was even possible...

"I w-was w-wond-d-dering." Professor Quirrel walked towards him, and Harry barely managed to hold his ground. He wasn't scared, much, but as the Professor approached the stinging turned into a violent burning. He held his hands in front of him in a futile gesture of warding, and one of his hands touched the Professor's. Both pulled back, and Harry saw boils erupting on the Professor's hand as he turned and fled the room.

"Harry?" Gregory was waiting right outside the door. Luckily no one else was with him.

"Let's go. Now." Harry turned and ran towards the dungeons, not even willing to brave the Great Hall for dinner, there was always the Kitchens.

**&&**&&**

_A woman was screaming, and a man. Green light, blinding, and a high, cold laugh. _

"_We'll fix you boy."_

"_No! Not Harry!"_

"_None of that, __**funny**__ stuff." _

_Heavy fists turned into blinding green light._

"Harry! Harry wake up!"

_Curled in the cupboard under the stairs, his entire body aching. _

_Bars like a cage, a woman screaming, a tall, hooded man, nothing but darkness and those piercing red eyes, green light, so much green light. The green light overwhelmed him, enveloped him, and then he was a the zoo, staring at the snake. The snake that winked when he apologized for his Uncle's behavior. _

"_You can understand me?" He asked. The snake nodded. _

"I'm getting Professor Snape."

_Professor Snape? A man in a billowing black robe telling him that he didn't want him in his house. Waking up in a cold sweat, Gregory's arms around him. Uncle Vernon's hands coming down over and over, pain blossoming across his chest, on his arms. Flying into a wall. Flying. Flying on his broom, chasing the snitch that turned into a flash of green light and he was falling and a woman was screaming. _

"_I don't want him in this house Petunia!"_

"_I do not know how you were sorted into this house, mister Potter."_

"_We have to Vernon. Please!" _

_More fists, across his body, everywhere that wouldn't show when he went to school. He wouldn't stop. It would never stop. Green light._

"Mister Potter." Something sharp and horrible smelling was being held under his nose. He barely managed to roll onto his stomach and shove his face over the side of his bed before the contents of his intestines emptied themselves onto the plush carpet. When he picked his head up Professor Snape was holding a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion. He nodded, and his Head poured a small dose into a conjured cup, handing it over. Harry drank it and leaned back as he felt the mattress sink and Gregory's arms reach around him. The last thing he remembered was Professor Snape rising and waving his wand over what used to be the contents of his stomach. Then the potion kicked in and he entered a state of nothingness.


	11. Quidditch

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't want to...not cannon at least...but I'll mess with it, oh yes I wills.

**&&**&&**&&**

"Did anything unusual happen yesterday?" Harry was sitting in Professor Snape's office, a mug of tea in his hands, dressed in his Quidditch robes. He was shaking rather heavily, and had just recounted his dream from the previous night, or what he could remember of it anyway.

"Um." Harry looked up, trying to remember. It seemed like weeks had passed, not just a few hours. "Actually yeah. Professor Quirrel asked me to stay behind after class." He closed his eyes and tried to remember. "Gregory was going to wait outside for me, and when all the other students had left the Professor approached. He didn't really say anything about why he wanted me to stay, but my scar was hurting so I raised my hands and one brushed against his hand, and my scar burned, and he yelled, and I think his hand, well, bubbled." He took a sip of the tea, opening his eyes slowly. "I ran like a fury, and didn't go to dinner in the Great Hall. Professor Quirrel worries me sir."

"Don't think on that, mister Potter." Professor Snape's voice was a bit sharper than usual.

"May I ask why sir?" Harry asked carefully.

"You need to focus on your schoolwork." The answer was perfectly acceptable and not at all useful. Harry nodded mutely, accepting the shake off and took another sip of his tea.

"Yes sir." He looked up. "Am I allowed to go to Quidditch practice?"

"Yes." Harry stood quickly, putting the mug down on the desk, and ran out, racing through the castle and out to the pitch where the rest of the team was already in the air. "Up." He paused only long enough to mount his broom, left on the ground by Captain Flint at the start of practice, before pushing off and shooting towards the other players. In the air he was free. There were no dreams, no memories, just him, the broom, Bludgers, and that little Golden Snitch that meant so much.

**&&**&&**

Harry had endured nightmares for a week straight until they had tapered off again, and he was well rested for the first Quidditch match of the season. Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

In the changing rooms most of the team was rather rowdy, the beaters running into each other, the chasers tossing a practice Quaffle back and forth.

"We win. No failure. No questions." Marcus Flint shouldered his broom, and the others followed suit, dropping into formation as they walked on to the field to lots of boos and Slytherin cheers.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you." Madam Hooch said, paying particular attention to Flint, which Harry thought was both reasonable and unfair. "Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and fifteen brooms rose up, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is take immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too --"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor." The commentator was a Gryffindor. Rather biased, but then again any commentator would likely take sides so it couldn't be helped.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle," Harry pumped the air with his fist, and got back to looking for the Snitch, ducking and weaving between the players, trying to distract the Gryffindors even as he searched. "Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood," Harry growled, "and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger." Harry grinned. "Quaffle taken by the Slytherins – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson is back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes, and wait, did Potter just see the Snitch?" Harry, seeing the open field, dove straight into Johnson's path, forcing her to swerve off, and Lee's comment drew Gryffindor's seeker.

Harry's grin was feral as gravity and his amazing broom helped him accelerate towards the ground. A glance behind told him that Gryffindor's seeker was chasing, and his grin became evil. He heard Jordan note that Flint had taken the Quaffle from Johnson, speeding off to try for a goal, and there was the ground, almost, just a little bit more. Harry felt the air above him clear even as he pulled up, angry that the boy hadn't followed him just that bit further to crash into the ground. But he pulled up and dove for height, shooting across one of the Weasley's paths and practically unseating the boy.

"SLYTHERIN SCORES!" The call rang out in a disappointed voice and Harry was back to looking for the snitch when his broom gave an almighty jerk, suddenly very much out of his control. Then again. Harry tried to fly to ground, but his broom rose even higher. Below people were looking up, pointing, whispering. The game continued, even as Harry's broom started jerking wildly, swaying to and fro, bucking like the pony that had unseated Dudley when he was seven and was probably long turned to glue.

Harry hung on with all his might trying desperately to not fall, but he realized that he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer.

"Flint!" He screamed, grabbing the attention of his Captain as he was unseated and swung from one hand. Flint looked up, and Harry let go, twisting so that his stomach faced the ground, his mouth open in a scream. It was lucky that Flint was very, very good at catching falling Quaffles because he shot towards his plummeting seeker, and scooped him out of the air, turning the fall into a controlled dive that deposited Harry on the ground.

"Go grab a school broom." He ordered even as he shot back into the game. Harry stood on the ground for a second, waiting for the fall to stop, waiting to be able to breathe, when he realized that he couldn't breathe for a different reason: Something was stuck in his throat. As soon as he realized this his entire body convulsed, throwing him to his knees as he tried to expel the blockage. Once and again, and abruptly his airway was clear, and there was the snitch, wings folded and sticky with saliva and something that looked like blood. Harry could taste the bitter, coppery substance in his mouth and figured it must have ripped his throat up a bit.

Raising the snitch above his head he heard Jordan announcing the end of the match, groans all around, and the Gryffindor Captain Wood yelling that 'he hadn't caught the snitch, he'd almost swallowed it!' But Harry didn't care. He looked up to the teacher's stand, and saw Professor Snape muttering, pulling his broom back with magic. He saw Professor Quirrel with his robes smoldering, and the bushy hair of the Granger-beaver disappearing from sight. He'd have to ask her about that, but not just yet. At that moment what he needed was to get back to the changing rooms and collapse, and maybe go to the Hospital Wing about his throat.

**&&**

"It was Professor Quirrel." Hermione Granger stood on one side of his bed in the hospital wing, Professor Snape on the other. Madam Pomfrey was bustling about getting a soothing draught for his throat.

"I am aware of this miss Granger." Professor Snape said, his voice grumpy.

"Yes, but Harry isn't." Granger, Hermione, he'd saved her life and she'd tried to save his, surely he should call her by her first name, at least when not around too many others, said. She turned to him. "I'd just set fire to Professor Quirrel's robes when you let go. Oh, um..." She looked up a Professor Snape, nervousness in every line of her body. "Can you not have heard that please?"

Professor Snape looked at her as though she were a bug on his shoe. "Very well." At that moment the doors burst open and the rest of the Slytherin team, Gregory, Draco, Vincent, Blaise, and Kira all stormed in, talking angrily.

"Professor! Do we know what happened?" Flint asked as Blaise and Gregory moved to stand next to Hermione, not only to show support for Harry, but to keep the other Slytherins from giving her problems.

"What is all this noise?" Madam Pomfrey bustled over, a jug in her hand. "Drink this." She absently thrust the jug at Harry, who sniffed it before chugging it. Surprisingly it didn't taste all that bad, and his throat felt better almost immediately. "This the Hospital Wing, not a pub! Out!"

"In a minute Madam Pomfrey." Professor Snape gestured for silence from the team. "All of you, the situation has been taken care of. I don't want to hear of any speculation or gossip. Now, I believe you all have essays you could be writing?" Which was nothing but the truth. The team turned, and walked out, still muttering angrily, but obeying their Head.

"Professor?" Draco and the other first years remained around the bed.

"The same goes for all of you." Professor Snape glowered around the gathered students before turning and striding out.

"It was Quirrel," Hermione said as soon as he was gone, "but we can't do anything about it."

"What, why?" Blaise asked.

"There's something strange about Pr'fess'r Quirrel." Gregory said, shrugging.

"Yeah, my scar hurts whenever I'm around him, and it positively burned once when he touched me." Harry said absently.

"Well, we'll just have to stop him from getting any other chances to try...whatever." Blaise said firmly. Harry noticed she was distracted and seemed to be deeply thinking about something, but just as quickly as he saw it, it was gone and Blaise's face returned to the smooth mask it normally held.

"But how are we..." Hermione started.

"OUT!" Madam Pomfrey bustled over. "Out!" The others shied away. "You too, mister Potter, you can go." Harry nodded, and hopped to the floor. Gregory settled in to his left and behind, Draco to his right and Blaise, Hermione and Kira gabbled at each other in front of them.

"Oh, Harry. I got an owl this morning." Draco spoke like he was just remembering something of limited importance. "Mum said to invite you to spend the Christmas Holidays with us 'so she can get you dressed properly'." Draco grinned as Gregory and Vincent winced, but Harry only smiled.

"About that," he let a smirk cross his face, "I may be able to help all of us there. Tell her I'd be delighted." He put on airs for the last sentence, drawing himself up and sticking his nose further in the air than was useful for a realistic arrogant look.

**&&**&&**&&**&&**

Next chapter: Christmas at Malfoy Manor.

ShadowCub: No. We can't ditch Goyle. Think of it this way: Goyle = Ron, Ron = Crabbe&Goyle. Much as we would like to get rid of the sidekick, that position is rather necessary.


	12. Arrival

Disclaimer: standard

imadoodlenoodle is awesome!

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Kira, Blaise, Gregory, Vincent, Draco, and Harry stuffed themselves into a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, trunks carefully packed, holiday homework included. They whiled away the hours of the ride playing exploding snap, eating chocolate frogs and trading stories about pranks they'd pulled. All in all it was a brilliantly fun ride, interrupted only once by the witch with the trolley.

About five minutes before the train was due to arrive at the station they all pulled their school robes off, revealing outfits that Draco had kept in reserve all term. He had informed them all that morning that his mother would be picking them up, and their parents were going to meet them at the Manor for dinner and 'school talk'. Therefore, it was necessary for them to 'dress up'. Harry, personally, felt both amazing and ridiculous. He was wearing flared-bottom green dragon hide pants with a silver, button-up shirt complete with flaring sleeves that mimicked those on Professor Snape's robes, and the Slytherin crest over his left breast. His boots were polished a shiny black, enough to see his reflection in, his hair was jelled back, and a tailored version of his school cloak, he didn't even want to know how Draco'd gotten that done, was in Gregory's possession.

Draco's outfit was similar, though he wore green tie with a Slytherin crest pin stuck in it, and he had a pair of black gloves in the pocket of the cloak Vincent was carrying. His pants were slacks instead of dragon hide, and he wore dress shoes instead of boots. Blaise's getup was a full-length green skirt with the female version of their shirts, a necklace with snake pendant, and her boots were more militant. Kira was carrying her cloak. Kira, Gregory, and Vincent were all wearing full black suits in a wizarding version of the muggle style with green ties poking out of the boy's jackets.

Harry looked around the cabin, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slammed his head against the upholstery.

"I feel like a doll." He said.

"But you look fah-bulous." Draco retorted, his own voice irritated.

"I'm fixing all of this." Harry said, waving at all of them. "Your mother is not choosing my clothing."

"Yes, but before you get yourself eaten by the spider, everyone knows what they're doing?" Draco looked at the others. They all nodded as the train grounded to a halt.

After stealthily hauling their trunks off the train the six of them formed up, Draco pointing the line towards where his parents waited.

"One. Two. Three." Kira, Vincent, and Gregory carved a path through the milling students using a wedge formation, Draco and Blaise directly behind them, and Harry bringing up the rear. When the three 'bodyguards' got to the adults they split off, moving back behind Harry. Draco and Blaise both nodded to the elder Malfoys.

"Father, mother, I would like to introduce you to Harry Potter." Draco and Blaise separated, and Harry stepped forwards, shaking Mr. Malfoy's hand first, then taking Mrs. Malfoy's and kissing the back with a light brush of his lips.

"Fabulous." Mrs. Malfoy said, looking at all of them with a satisfied smile on her face. "Absolutely fabulous." Harry didn't dare trade glances with the others, but oh how he wanted to.

"Mister Potter." Mr. Malfoy interrupted his wife's obsession before it could truly start. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you. Draco has told us a great deal about you."

"The pleasure is mine mister Malfoy, and please, call me Harry." Harry smiled at him, letting the man maneuver him a short distance from the others, who were stuck, as Draco had said, in the Spider's web.

Mister Malfoy used the open mouth of the snake topping his cane to move Harry's head this way and that as though he were a prized animal. Harry didn't much like it, but he was going to be staying with the Malfoys so he didn't argue, about that.

"Mister Malfoy," Harry worked out the phrasing quickly in his head, "I would like to apologize in advance for insisting on choosing my own wardrobe, which I intend to expand over the holiday." Unexpectedly, mister Malfoy smiled.

"Young man," the cane's butt returned to the ground, "anyone who can stand up to my wife on the subject of clothing is very powerful indeed. I look forward to seeing you make the attempt."

**&&*&*&&**

Harry was hard-pressed not to crack up when the adults arrived for dinner. Gregory and Vincent's parents were both dressed almost identically to their sons. It turned out that both Blaise and Kira's parents had yet to fall into Narcissa's web, as they didn't usually attend the Manor. In fact, Blaise's mother took one look at Blaise, and point-blank refused to allow Narcissa to dress either of them. The entirety of dinner was accompanied by glares traded between the two mothers, and followed by tense conversation that Draco and Harry were excused from so that Draco could show Harry to the guest room that had been readied for him.

The room was, as he had expected, decorated in Slytherin colors with no thought to how depressing that much dark coloring was. At the same time it was opulent, luxurious and absolutely stunning. The bed was a queen four-post, green hangings and black sheets with a crested comforter. The closet was of the walk-in variety, and his trunk had already been unpacked, everything stored just so.

"Damn, Draco." Harry flopped onto the bed, staring at his friend. "No wonder."

"No wonder what?" Draco shot back confused and on the defensive.

"No wonder you're such a spoiled brat." Harry kept his eyes on his friend, watching the boy swell up like an angry puppy.

"I am no-."

"Yes you are." The matter-of-fact tone threw Draco off. "Spoiled, but not rotten." Harry shrugged. "You've never had to fight for anything. Yeah, you can't pick your clothes, but you've got everything handed to you on a gold platter." He shifted his eyes to take in the room. "And you can't even kick me out of your house for saying this because your dad wants the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived under his control."

"How do you?" Draco stared at him. "You?" Something seemed to dawn behind his eyes.

"Yes Draco, I read your mail." Harry shrugged. "I learned a lot from the Durselys, but the most important thing is that everything has a price, including friends." Harry's' smile was rather more empty than usual.

"Well then." Draco stood straighter, pulling his eyes back in and closing his loose jaw.

"Well then." Harry echoed.

"Mother will be taking us Christmas shopping tomorrow." Draco grinned a very evil grin.

"Best sleep then, yeah?" Harry asked, and Draco took that for the dismissal that it was and actually left, but not of course, without getting the last word in.

"Yeah. I wouldn't want to miss my mother's reaction if you have the guts to mess with her clothing choices." Draco's smirk was back as he walked out, leaving Harry to change and curl up in the massive bed.

**&&*&*&&**

"Mister Potter." The tension in the dining room could have been cut with a butter knife.

"Mister Malfoy." Harry stood his ground, after all, wizards fought with curses, which were much less scary than the ham-like fists of his Uncle simply because he had no prior experience from which to draw fear.

The pause stretched out as the large, white-haired, aristocratic man and the short, black-haired boy with stupid glasses and a cursed scar played the oldest game in the book; who's going to look away first. After what seemed like an eternity mister Malfoy spoke again, never breaking eye contact.

"How would you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled."

"Mushrooms?"

"Fried."

"Tomatoes?"

"No thank you."

"Potatoes?"

"Hash."

"Black pudding?"

"Hidden in my aunt and uncle's bed."

"That can be arranged."

"You two are being ridiculous." Mrs. Malfoy stood with her arms crossed, her wand in her hand.

"But it's really fun to watch." Draco was leaning back in one of the high-backed chairs around the kitchen table, his feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the table itself.

"What have I told you about putting your feet on the table?" Mr. Malfoy asked, still not breaking eye contact with Harry.

"Not to do it." Draco took his feet off the table, and Harry broke off the staring contest. After all, he needed the good will of at least one of the Malfoy's, and Draco was still miffed about their conversation from the night before.

The rest of breakfast passed with a reasonably limited amount of posturing, and Harry found himself enjoying the familial atmosphere that appeared rather suddenly away from witnesses. For all that the Malfoys were very rich and, if Harry was any judge, well steeped in the Dark Arts, there was a lot of love and caring in private. Draco looked at his father with respect and a bit of hero worship. Mr and Mrs Malfoy argued like any other married couple, but they also made compromises, and they had a system of nonverbal communication that only existed when people really cared.

"Hey Harry, you okay?" The whisper was almost too soft to pick up, and Harry looked at Draco in confusion, only then realizing that he'd been staring.

"Yeah." Harry shook his head to get rid of unwanted thoughts about who deserved what. "Yeah, Draco. I'm fine." He ate the last bite of eggs off his plate, forcing a close-lipped smile even as he chewed.

"Really, if you don't want to challenge my mum that's fine." Draco said, and somehow Harry realized that he knew that wasn't why Harry had been staring, but was giving him an out. He didn't know why it surprised him that his friend could be tactful...once in a blue moon.

"That's okay." Harry took the out, at least in terms of the conversation. "I think I can handle it."

"Well get ready then because I think we're about to leave." Draco straightened even more as his mother rose.

"Well boys, I think it's time to go." Mrs. Malfoy smiled at them, and Harry could have sworn she was already dressing them in new outfits, just with her eyes.

"Where are we going mother?" Draco asked as he stood.

"Well, I figured we'd go to Gioventù Alla Moda, so we'll be spending the night with some friends of the family, and I expect the both of you to be on your best behavior." Mrs. Malfoy replied.

"Italy it is then." Draco threw his arm around Harry's shoulder, covertly closing his jaw and pulling him towards the door.


	13. Breaking A Spider's Web

Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda yadda. And can I take a moment just to tell you all how amazing imadoodlenoodle is? She's gone through this when all she wanted to do was sleep, she's added words, changed ring to bracelet and added some random content. She also refrained from adding her own comments to the bracket-ed parts, something which was very hard for her. She did remove these bits though, so no worries. Oh and during the editing she used Wikipedia and Google- none of which is owned by her. Thank you.

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"Italy it is then." Draco threw his arm around Harry's shoulder, covertly closing his jaw and pulling him towards the door.

"Well, have fun then." Mr. Malfoy's voice had a strange catch to it.

"But dear, you're coming with us." Mrs. Malfoy's voice held a note that Harry had never heard before, but immediately recognized. Spider. Web. He hid a smirk.

"Yes dear." Harry didn't know how he heard 'bloody hell' in the sweet words, but he did, and it made him smile.

"Um, Missus Malfoy?" Harry turned his head slightly. "How are we getting there?"

"Why, by portkey of course." She smiled, taking a small gold chain bracelet off her wrist.

"Just do what I do and don't ask questions." Draco's voice froze Harry before he could ask what a portkey was, thus Harry watched Draco as the four of them made their way out of the Manor.

"I always like to leave from outside. So much more civilized." Mrs. Malfoy said, breathing deeply as a sharp breeze flooded across them. She held out her hand, the bracelet held between finger and thumb, and Draco and Mr. Malfoy reached out to also hold onto a part of it, Harry hastening to do the same. Narcissa tapped the bracelet with her wand, and Harry felt a tug behind his navel. He was spinning wildly, bumping against Draco and Mr. Malfoy.

Suddenly the ground was there and the bracelet was no longer holding his finger. Harry, of course collapsed, his legs giving way with the unexpected shock of landing, while Draco and the two adult Malfoys stood as though they hadn't just traveled however many kilometers in the space of less than a minute.

Harry picked himself up, brushing his robes off, and met the eyes of the male Malfoys.

"Well then, let's be off." Mrs. Malfoy said, striding down the street, her off-hand firmly propelling Draco in front of her. Somehow, the bracelet was back on her wrist, though how Harry had no clue. Mr. Malfoy arced an imperious eyebrow at Harry, and gestured for the boy to precede him. Harry nodded without thinking, and followed Mrs. Malfoy down a street that resembled Diagon Alley only in that it was absolutely covered in cloaked figures.

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Gioventù Alla Moda was amazing in its excessiveness. Harry didn't even have to look at a price tag to know that even undergarments probably cost more than everything he owned...not counting the clothes Draco had given him. Not that there _were _any price tags.

_'I suppose if you need to ask you can't afford it.'_ Harry thought as he looked around the shop, seeing clothes everywhere.

"Well then." Mrs. Malfoy started flitting about the shelves, pulling down clothes in sliver and green.

"Draco, go try these on. Harry, you try these." She handed them each a pile of clothes, or, tried to. Draco took his with a resigned sigh, but Harry crossed his arms. He heard Mr. Malfoy, who had started a conversation with another man who seemed to also be there against his will, hush the both of them.

"No thank you." Harry said, his feet planted firmly and squarely, his eyes trained on Mrs. Malfoy's. Even Draco was watching, his eyes wide.

"Pardon dear? Run along now." Mrs. Malfoy tried to shove the clothes into his arms, but he didn't take them, stepping back so that she had to catch them before they tumbled to the floor. As soon as he was out from under the pile he planted his feet again, keeping his body square towards the wonderful lady who looked like someone had confunded her.

"Mister Potter." Harry saw Draco's eyes go wide out of the corner of his own as Mrs. Malfoy spoke, her voice like poisoned ice cream. "Surely you want to try these on."

"I would like to return to Hogwarts with a trunk full of cheery clothing in colors other than silver, green, and black." Harry took a partial-step towards her.

"With all due respect ma'am, the clothing you pick screams Dark Slytherin. There's no surprise, no shock. I already have my school robes, so why not dress cheerfully? Cheerful clothes make the wearer happy, and they confuse everyone else should I chose to do something less that Light. It's like, people will always be more frightened of someone who hurts them with a smile on their face because the two feelings, happiness and pain, don't normally join together, when they do it confuses people. Sets them on edge. Also wearing some darker clothing is fine but I am not only ever wearing silver, green and black." His arms were still crossed.

"Cheerful." Mrs. Malfoy's voice was full of confusion blanketed by the need to not appear confused in public.

"You want to wear cheerful clothing. At Malfoy Manor." Mrs Malfoy's lip curled slightly at the word 'cheerful,' and Harry could her the distaste mingling with the confusion.

"Of course not ma'am. I want to wear cheerful clothing at Hogwarts," He paused for a second, "I also want to wear simple clothing at Hogwarts. I'm used to hand-me-downs, and all of this," he waved a hand around the store, "is still too new for me and, I must say, looks out of place at Hogwarts. It's a school not an event."

"Oh, but dear-" This time Harry cut her off completely.

"-No, Missus Malfoy." There was, of course, a great deal more going on than just words.

"But this..." She plucked at one of the green shirts held oh so carefully across her arm.

"No, Missus Malfoy."

"Appropriate..." She started to swell upwards, like a snake about to bite, and for the third time Harry cut her off.

"No, Missus Malfoy." Harry held her eyes as she tried to bore into his resolve, tried to tunnel down and scoop it out with a rusty shovel. Finally she broke off.

"Fine." She turned towards her frozen son, her glare sending him scurrying to the changing room. "Lucius, why don't you and Mister Potter go and, go and find do something else while Draco and I shop." Narcissa was a pureblood proper witch, Harry could definitely _not _hear the sulk in her voice. Harry still didn't relax even though she had given them permission to leave, but he looked up at Mr. Malfoy, who was sharing a relieved glance with the man he'd been speaking with earlier. Mr. Malfoy's hand came down on Harry's shoulder, steering him around and the two of them walked out.

"Impressive." Mr. Malfoy said, looking down to meet Harry's eyes.

"It's not over." Harry replied.

"And astute. Mister Potter, I do believe you might actually succeed." Mr. Malfoy sounded impressed, but there was something else there. They wandered purposefully away from the store, Harry pummeling his brain, trying to find the missing piece to the puzzle that was the interaction. Finally it clicked, and he put his hand up to stop their forward movement, grabbing the older man's sleeve in a way that made him turn simply from the touch.

"Something has been bugging you Mister Malfoy." Harry said, letting the man pin him in place with eyes that had seen death. It was always there, but after he'd spoken Harry saw the full impact, the clouds of respectability and fatherhood dropped. After a moment of pathologically intense silence Mr. Malfoy moved, but only to bring the head of his cane to Harry's forehead. Harry felt a single fang grazing his forehead, moving his bangs to reveal the scar.

"How is it that a child could destroy the most powerful wizard of the age?" The snake turned Harry's head up. "What power is it that you have, that you survived and He did not?"

"I don't know." Harry said, keeping his eyes on Mr. Malfoy's even as the man scrutinized his scar.

"Do you hate him?" The undercurrents of their conversation were so intense Harry was sure he was going to be left as afraid of Mr. Malfoy as he was of his Uncle. Yet however much he wanted to run and despite the fact that he didn't have an answer to the question, he stood his ground.

"I remember them dying sometimes, in my dreams." He knew his face had taken on a confused cast.

"Or, at least, I think I do. I see a flash of green light, and I hear a woman screaming my name." Somehow the tension relaxed and increased at the same time.

"Really?" The snake dropped back to its owner's hand. Harry nodded.

"I never knew my parents." Harry turned, tears overwhelming his eyes at the overflow of emotions he was experiencing. He started walking, his feet taking him in a random direction, alone for a bare instant before the very confusing adults footsteps joined his.

"Do you hate the man who took them from you?" The voice was distant in a way, perhaps somewhat effected by their interaction.

"I don't know." Harry didn't look at Mr. Malfoy, and he had a feeling the man was avoiding his gaze as well.

"You don't know." The voice held incredulity.

"I spent most of my life believing my parents died in a car crash." He felt the presence at his side stop, and turned to see a rather shocked expression on the normally stoic Mr. Malfoy's face.

"Victim's of the Dark Lord die in a car crash?" Harry couldn't help it. He cracked up; took two steps onto the grass, swung his cloak off and to the ground to prevent grass stains on his pants and shirt, and collapsed on top of it, laughing so hard he couldn't actually get a sound out.

"What, is _so_ funny?" Harry looked up to see his escort scowling down at him.

"Hagrid said pretty much the same thing when he found out, except that his were 'Lily and James Potter' instead of 'victims of the Dark Lord'." Harry sat up, his feet planted on the ground below his cloak, knees bent towards his chest.

"I see." Mr. Malfoy relaxed. "But you still haven't explained how you can not know." Harry sighed, then reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?" The query was delivered quickly, as though Mr. Malfoy was nervous all of a sudden. Harry just continued, unbuttoning the shirt just enough that he knew it would pull over his head without any difficulty.

"Answering your question." He turned so that he was kneeling with his back to Mr. Malfoy as he pulled the shirt off. He knew what the man would see: collections of scars, dense white lines of raised skin, all across his back and upper arms, disappearing under the waist of his pants.

"The Dark Lord gave me one scar, a scar I never remembered receiving, a scar that only hurts randomly. What is that compared to these?" Harry paused for a moment, giving Lucius the chance to lose his shock and to see the scars. Harry shrugged his shirt back on, tucking it in and buttoning it briskly.

"I see." Harry did not see the shock that he knew must have crossed the man's face, but his lack of verbiage spoke eloquently of his reaction. "And the Muggles you were placed with did that to you?"

"Yes sir." Harry looked up at him again. "They tried to beat the magic out of me." He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it when all he felt at having to reveal that particular sin was anger at the ones who set it on him. "It didn't work very well." He said blankly, trying not to let the anger show.

"I see." Oh, there was anger in Mr. Malfoy's eyes, but suddenly it changed and his eyes stared at Harry unblinkingly.

"Wait." The snake's fang was again at his forehead, this time tracing his scar. "Did you say it hurts sometimes?"

"Yes." Harry was a bit confused by the change in topic, but too tense and overwrought, under the surface, to care.

"Interesting." And then Mr. Malfoy's face changed again. "Well, where would you like to go?" And just like that the dangerous conversation was dropped and filed away, neither of them commenting any more on it as they returned to the civilized world.


	14. Fed Up

Disclaimer: Is kind of pointless at this point.

AN: Wow. Dog-sitting messes up my sleep schedule. Notes that beta imadoodlenoodle is epically awesome and is putting up with the fact that I've sent her at least 7 chapters, half of which will probably have to be completely re-written because I had a brainsplosion.

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As if his words had been prophetic, Harry found himself in an almost daily battle with Mrs. Malfoy during the week leading up to Christmas. Sometimes they had contests of will like the first day, but other days he had to use different tactics. Once he had to pull out garments meant for him when she was in the middle of purchasing them. Harry knew that she would refuse to return them because of her pride and he would be guilted into wearing them- or at least accepting them. Another time he handed her a number of garments, none in Slytherin colors, and informed her that if she was going to present him with a Christmas present it was going to be those or nothing. Then there was the day in Diagon Alley when he got so frustrated that he walked out.

That was the day Harry spent in muggle London. He stopped by Gringotts on the way out of course and traded some Galleons for muggle money. He took advantage of his rather brash action and picked up a few pairs of jeans and purple-and-white, blue-and-white, and red-and-white (that really did just look pink), thinly vertically striped, button-up shirts. What he wasn't going to tell the Malfoys _ever_ was that he'd gotten them from a thrift store. If they asked, which he really hoped they didn't, he was going to tell them he got the clothes from Jack Willis, not a shop they would know, Narcissa was unlikely even to be swayed be the knowledge that the shop was not cheap.

"Mister Potter." Lucius Malfoy was waiting in the Leaky Cauldron, intentionally where he could see the door but whoever was entering couldn't see him. Harry jumped a little and turned with purchases in his hands.

"Mister Malfoy." Harry nodded at the man.

"Did you just spent the day in muggle London in order to avoid my wife?"

"Yes sir."

"Is there clothing in that bag?"

"Yes sir."

"Muggle clothing?"

"Yes sir."

"Lucius."

"Excuse me?"

"Young man, if you have the nerve to purchase muggle garments while my wife is trying to turn you into another doll of hers, you have most definitely earned the right to call me Lucius." Mr. Malfoy- _Lucius_, stood and held out his arm. Harry recognized what he was going to do and took a breath before grabbing. A series of tubes later he and Lucius were standing outside Malfoy Manor.

"Brace yourself." Lucius opened the door.

"Do you have him? Did you find him?" The frantic voice of Mrs. Malfoy stormed across them.

"Do relax Narcissa." Lucius' voice was amused, and Harry noticed him smirk as his wife trotted into view.

"I did tell you he would be fine."

"Young man!" Her gaze rested fully on Harry, who suddenly realized what a mouse felt like in the instant before it was killed by the hawk. "How dare you run off like that! You could have been hurt! You could have gotten lost! What were you thinking?! No, don't answer that last question as it is obvious that you were not!"

"You keep trying to pick my clothes. I don't like it. I want to pick my own clothes." Harry had dropped his purchases at his feet as she spoke and crossed his arms in front of his chest, standing the same way he had every time she and he had 'discussed' clothing.

There was a moment of complete_ stunned _silence.

"Fine. Dinner's ready." She turned and walked away.

"Bloody hell!" Draco stepped out of a doorway hidden in shadows.

"Language, Draco." Lucius said calmly and automatically as Harry grabbed the handles of the bag.

"Let me go put these away." Harry looked up. "Draco, help me?"

"I can have a house elf send them up and put the clothes away." Lucius cut in with his offer.

"I think it's best if we go put them away, leaving Mrs Malfoy a moment to get over her shock." Harry told Lucuis with a smothered grin, indeed even the usual mask of indifference was dropped as Lucius held a bemused smirk. "Coming Draco?" Harry asked.

"Sure." The two of them walked away, Draco looking like someone had hit him in the face repeatedly with a phantom brick.

Harry dumped everything on the bed as soon as the door closed, and was shaking out the first pair of jeans when he heard a choking noise behind him.

"Yes Draco?" He didn't even look.

"You're not planning on wearing those in this house are you?" Draco sounded like he couldn't breathe.

"No." Harry continued his rather expert folding. "I'm planning on wearing them at Hogwarts." He finished the last pair of jeans, and pulled the pink shirt up. "Here, try this on." He tossed it at the boy, looking just long enough to make sure it landed on his head.

The result was...amusing. Draco fought the shirt off as though it was a vicious animal, throwing it to the floor with a shudder and a yelp. Then...

"It's pink."

"Yes Draco." Harry folded the next shirt.

"You want me to put on something pink." The stunned incredulity was like a glass of expensive wine...not that he'd ever had wine before.

"That is the general idea." Two shirts down, just the pink one to go.

"Something that is both pink, and was made by muggles." Harry turned, leaning on his bed with a smirk on his face.

"Is something wrong Draco? I think it will bring out the colour in your eyes." Harry mocked, fluttering his lashes.

"Has anyone ever told you you're _insane_ ?" Draco threw the shirt at him, and Harry caught it, turning to fold it and put it on the pile with the others.

"Hmm, no." Harry picked up the pile of shirts and turned towards his open trunk. "Stupid, clumsy, a waste of space, weird- even famous, but never insane." He put the shirts in and returned to the bed for the jeans.

"Why do I bother?" Draco asked, his hand on his head.

"Because your father wants me on his side." Harry suggested, dropping the jeans into the trunk.

"Damnit Potter!" Draco exploded. This was a new reaction, and Harry whirled around, freezing at the look on Draco's face. "Have you ever considered that maybe I like you? That maybe _I_ want to be your friend, not because of my father, but because _**I**_ want to?" Draco stood there, looking rather stunned at what had just come out of his mouth, panting slightly.

"Draco?" Harry took a step forwards, reaching out a hand like he would have to a scared, unpredictable animal.

"Why does it always have to be about my father? Or anyone else? Just because you have a bloody scar on your bloody forehead suddenly I only want to be your friend because of my dad?" The arrogance from the first day they'd met was back, over and under laid with something rather more intense.

"What am I supposed to think?" Harry yelled back, "I read, Draco, and I listen. I hear what everyone says in the common room! You're the son of the man who stood at the right hand of the Dark Lord. Your entire family is steeped in the Dark Arts for generations, your love for them is purer than your blood and the man your family serves is the man who gave me that scar you hate. You don't have friends, you have minions and anyone with no money isn't worth your time, but you give me clothes, put up with me insulting you and you even invite me home for Christmas!"

"You think I bloody like that?" Draco shouted right back, looking like he'd just been slapped. "My father's debating whether or not to kill you for destroying the Dark Lord. The entire world is wondering whether you're the Light's savior or the next Dark Prince. And here I am with the first person who's ever had the guts to tell me what they think of me, what they _actually_ think of me,and not only do I have to be your friend because my father says so, but the more I get to know you the more I want to be your friend, even though you piss me off!"

It was one thing to know intellectually that the man housing you was probably thinking about killing you, it was another to hear that directly from the mouth of the man's son.

"Huh. I thought he liked me." Harry said, mostly to himself.

"He does." Draco's voice was packed with resentment. "HE DOES! Are you bloody happy Potter?"

"No, Draco." Harry's brain finally started working. He remembered all those times Draco had quickly whispered some piece of advice or other before he committed an accidental faux pas. He remembered the way the arrogance was just a little less stinging when he and Draco talked, the way he caught the boy looking at him sometimes. "I'm not happy because you're not happy, because we have stuff we need to work out."

"Shall I call the marriage counselor, or the executioner?" And there was Lucius, standing in the doorway, Mrs. Malfoy behind him. His attention turned towards his son. "Draco, I'm disappointed. You were ordered not to tell our guest I was considering killing him, and yet here I find you screaming that very information at the top of your lungs." Draco blanched.

"I already knew." Harry stepped between Draco and his father. "He didn't have to say anything."

"And _how_ might I ask, did you know?" Lucius asked, his voice like a silken blade.

"Logic, Mister Malfoy. That and common sense." Harry stood his ground.

"I believe I told you to call me Lucius." An arched eyebrow, permission to break the tension.

"I know." Harry shrugged, intentionally insolent. "Felt more like a Mister Malfoy moment." Lucius smirked at his answer.

"Very well, Draco." Harry still didn't move. "I have come to a decision." Harry felt Draco swallow behind him. Felt, because the boy was literally pressed against his back, somehow having ended up that way, though Harry couldn't tell how. "Your friend is safe in my care. Neither I, nor anyone I can speak for, will attempt to harm him." Draco let out a breath...so did Harry for that matter.

"And Harry." Mrs. Malfoy spoke for the first time. "You're always welcome here." She let her husband past, but before she followed she looked back at him, and he saw the spider again. "But if you ever attempt to dress my son in pink again my husband's promise will not apply." With that she turned and walked away but called back over her shoulder, "and feel free to call me Narcissa."

"Well, she never said anything about blue." Harry walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a pastel blue shirt he'd gotten at one of the stores Narcissa had taken them to. "Try this on. I'm getting tired of seeing you in black and green. It really doesn't go with your face."

"Harry." Draco looked up, catching the shirt and holding it. He looked stunned, lost, scared, and a whole host of other things.

"Friends?" Harry asked, pulling out a purple shirt similar to the one he'd tossed Draco, but darker.

"Friends." Both boys changed shirts in silence, and when Harry saw Draco he smiled.

"Ugh. Bad fit." Draco grumbled, twisting this way and that.

"Yeah, but the color looks good on you." Harry retorted, smiling.

"Yeah, it does. Of course it does." Draco smiled back.

"I'm gonna have to convince mum to get me a few like this."

"Good luck." Harry said.

"Can I wear this to dinner?" Draco asked. "If she sees me in it- as long as she doesn't hex it off me, maybe it'll make her think about what she tries to make me wear all the time."

"That was the general idea. Baby steps." Harry tossed the clothes he'd just taken off onto the hamper and crossed to the door. "Now come on, I'm starving."


	15. Colour

Disclaimer: Standard, but anything original is mine, (or as close to original as you can get).

AN: ...I'm not sure I have an AN actually, maybe after this gets beta'd.

BN: Wanna know the biggest mistake? The one I had to correct _twice_! That's right, she went all American and spelt 'colour' wrong. *heavy sigh* I'm ashamed really. Can you review and give me your thoughts on this? Maybe say a line or two about the story at the same time?

AN2: Well, I -am- American.

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"Look out!" Harry ducked just in time but popped up immediately looking in the direction the hex had come from. He saw a figure ducking back under an overturned couch.

"Rictumsempra!" He yelled, pointing his wand at the figure and ducking just as another hex passed from the other side of the room. He turned to his partner, meeting glinting eyes, and nodded towards where the second hex had come from.

'One, two, three.' He mouthed the numbers, and on three both popped up and pointed at their targets, their wands crossing.

"Tarantallegra!"  
"Wingardum Leviosa!"

Harry's hex missed, but he glanced towards Gregory's target, and saw a chair fly up to reveal...

"Locomotor Mortis!" Blaise's legs snapped together and she wobbled unbalanced, dropping her wand.

"Inflomora." The whisper made Harry start and look down. Kira was crouched around the corner of their overturned table and had just set Gregory's robes on fire.

"Rictumsempra!" Kira collapsed, thrashing under the tickling curse and her wand flew out of her hands. "Greg. Cloak." Harry turned towards what he now knew was Draco as Gregory dropped to the ground to smother the flames. "Locomotor couch!" He pointed at the blockade.

"Serpensortia!" Draco's voice rang out, and the flash of light from his wand turned into a snake that started towards Harry who just stared at it.

Vincent had been taken out towards the beginning and the fire had Gregory out so it was just Harry and Draco, and both of them were watching the snake. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Lucius lift his wand pointing it at the snake.

"Lucius no." Harry said, not raising his voice. He turned back to the snake, cocking his head. "Hello." He said. The snake froze...as did everyone else. Harry ignored the humans. "Were you going to bite me?" The snake nodded. "Are you still going to bite me?" It shook its head. "Can you speak?" It nodded. "Will you?" Harry tried to coax the snake. The snake looked around, saw all at the other humans and shook its head. "Don't be afraid."

"Locomotor Mortis!" Harry raised his wand and shot the spell at the frozen Draco, waiting for the boy's exclaimation of disgust before moving out of his own protection and approaching the snake. He sat down a short way away and the snake slowly approached. Harry sat calmly and still, waiting for the snake to make the next move. It slithered to him, its tongue flicking to pick up its scent.

"Will you be my friend?" Harry asked eventually. The snake regarded him carefully, then shook its head. "No?" The snake nodded and Harry quirked an eyebrow out of quiet surprise. "Why?" If a snake could be said to shrug this one did. Deciding that the snake wouldn't change its mind, Harry tried a different tact. "Will you leave the humans here alone?" A nod. "Do you want the outside?" Another nod and Harry held out his hand. The snake climbed onto his forearm, winding around it like a living bracelet. "I'll be back in a minute." Harry said to the humans, standing and heading towards the closest exit. "Oh, and I win." He walked out, leaving the others staring after him.

No one had moved when Harry got back, though the jinxes had been taken off the others. He looked around, still jaded from his first win.

"What?" He asked with a confused expression on his face.

"Why didn't you tell us you're a Parselmouth?" Blaise asked after a minute, sounding slightly hurt.

"A what?" Harry asked, his composure cracking under the collective gaze of everyone in the room.

"You can talk to snakes." Gregory said calmly, moving to stand in his usual place slightly behind Harry in a show of support.

"Well yeah, but I bet loads of people can." Harry was bewildered at all the looks he was getting.

"Actually, no." Draco said, and he looked shaken, staring at his friend-who-was-actually-a-friend.

"Harry." Harry's head snapped towards a pale Lucius. "The last Parselmouth was the Dark Lord. It is a very rare gift, the legacy of Salazar Slytherin himself."

"Oh." Harry said, looking down at his hand, now devoid of the snake's weight.

"Well. I must say, I'm glad I decided to let you live." Lucius, blunt as ever now that he and Harry and an uncomfortable Draco, had had a rather long discussion in which everything regarding their horribly confusing relationship was put out in the open, dissected, and approved or removed. "Now." He raised his wand and waved it in a single fluid motions, and the room righted itself. "All of you go get changed for dinner." After chorus of 'yes sir's the six children poured out of the room.

Harry started stripping before his door had even closed, tossing his sweat-soaked garments on the floor. They had been playing 'tag' for over two hours, a total of five rounds, of which Draco won one with Vincent and one alone, and Blaise and Kira won two by working together. It was a rather fun game and was good dueling practice without all trappings of a 'gentleman's' duel.

"Nice win." Gregory was also stripping, neither of them self-conscious after sharing a room for the first term of school. Gregory of course knew about the scars, just as he knew about the nightmares and he wasn't going to say anything to anyone, not even his parents and certainly not even the Headmaster, without Harry's consent.

The normally large Malfoy Manor was hosting the families of all six children and with every spare room in use the kids had to double up, which they didn't at all mind- well except Draco, but that was his problem.

"Hope the snake thing isn't a problem." Harry walked into the en suite bathroom leaving the door open and turned on the shower, sluicing sweat off his body with a sigh. A quick soaping and he stepped out, Gregory taking his place as Harry toweled dry and wandered out to rummage through his wardrobe.

"Shock." Gregory grunted over the sound of falling water. Harry pulled out a pair of sleek black pants and a burgundy shirt, putting them on with practiced ease and tucking the shirt in. He left the collar undone and started struggling with the Slytherin cuff-links Narcissa had given him a few days ago. Suddenly large hands were taking over.

"Thanks." Harry said. Gregory just shrugged and walked over to the wardrobe to pull out his own clothing.

Both were barely ready when a knock heralded the door bursting open to reveal Draco and Vincent.

"Well?" Draco drawled, dressed in a green-edged silver outfit that actually looked good. Then, "damn Harry, you weren't kidding."

"No Draco, I wasn't." Harry smiled, looking down at himself. He walked towards Draco, passing the bed and scooping something from under the pillow. "Didn't you say Professor Snape was coming?" Draco nodded. "Good, let's go."

The four of them traipsed down the hall, picking up Blaise and Kira, both of whom had apparently taken less time to change than the boys.

"Is everything ready?" Blaise whispered as the six of them walked towards the dining room. Harry opened his hand to reveal a fragile-looking, glass-jewel butterfly with legs of thin wire that curled into feet. Draco, Vincent, Gregory, and Kira did the same, and Blaise pulled her own out of the billowy sleeves of her shirt. Each ornament was a different colour, patterened to look like a live butterfly made of glittering stone. They closed their hands again as they walked into the dining room, bowing as a unit to the adults already seated, closed hands disappearing behind their backs to release their burdens.

Hermione Granger, the only one of them who couldn't be there that night, had been the intellectual force behind this prank and had found the surprisingly simple spell to make it work. She'd also been the one to find the butterflies in a muggle store and set the base spells: they'd arrived by owl a bare two days before. She would of course require a full recap of the result, but first they had to pull it off.

Harry and Draco were seated close to Lucius and Narcissa respectively and Harry was actually across from Professor Snape. The others were next to their own parents, chatting amiably across the table to each other as the plates filled with food. Under the cover of the table Harry pulled out his wand and send a whisper of spell towards his own butterfly, which was resting like statue on the wall. It released the wall and fluttered towards the ground, skimming the floor until it disappeared behind Professor Snape's back. Harry couldn't see it, but he could feel how far away it was and he smiled, at Draco of course, when a small jolt through his wand told him it had connected with Professor Snape's chair.

Throughout the first course each of them took a turn moving their butterflies to Professor Snape's chair. During the second course they activated the second part, and Draco sent the wink that told them the ornaments were climbing slowly up the chair. A second wink when they reached their Professor's robes. Finally all of them could see the flashes of light as the butterflies carefully wound their six feet into their Professor's hair, wings fluttering a little as they settled.

After that none of them could look at each other or the Professor without needing to crack up. Finally Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey Draco, what was that rule again?" Harry tried not to snicker.

"I will dress in cheery colours and so throw my enemies off...or in this case my students." Draco drawled, and all six of them cracked up. Harry watched the adults looking at them, confusion plain on their faces...until Mrs. Zabini caught sight of Professor Snape's head. Her laughter joined the children's and the others started noticing the looks they were giving in Snape's direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry Professor Snape." Mrs. Zabini said, covering her mouth. "I do believe you've been pranked." She lifted a hand to her own hair and he followed, his face falling when he felt the firmly secured ornaments. With a wave of his own wand he transfigured his goblet into a mirror and held it up.

"You could not have done this on your own." He said, glaring at each of them in turn.

"I'm offended." Draco said immediately.

"No you're not Draco." Harry retorted.

"Yes I am." Draco replied.

"Enough!" Lucius glared at both of them. "What is going on?"

"Well sir." Blaise said from down the table. "We've been talking and..." She trailed off.

"We though Professor Snape could use a little colour because he's always so gloomy." Harry said, smiling innocently.

"Why does this sound familiar" Lucius said, a hand raising to rub his forehead. "Go on."

"So I owled Blaise, and Blaise owled Hermione, and Hermione figured out how to set those to crawl up anything vertical, and cling to hair." Draco said.

"We just had to get them on Professor Snape's chair." Harry finished.

"Ah, so I have Miss Granger to thank for this." Professor Snape said, trying to pull one of the butterflies out.

"No, you have Harry to thank." Narcissa said, reaching across Draco to try to pull another out. "He seems to think we should all dress with a bit more color."

"Semantics." Professor Snape looked straight at Harry. "Get them out before I make them explode." Harry looked at the others, and each pointed their wands at their Professor's head, causing his eyes to widen slightly.

"Rilascio." They said in unison, and the butterflies unwound their entwined feet from the hair they'd been gripping.

"You're no fun Professor." Harry added, faking a pout as each of the butterflies glided to their owners, part of the set-spell. Harry planted his own, slightly darker than sky blue, in the middle of his forehead where his bangs started, smiling.

*&*&*&*&*&.&*A/N*&.&*&*&*&*&*

"I will dress in cheery colors, and so throw my enemies [into confusion]." - Evil Overlord List #29

-_This __**Evil Overlord List**__ is Copyright 1996-1997 by Peter Anspach._

The author will note that she has very little artistic talent, but if someone wants to make a picture of Professor Snape with six jeweled butterflies in his hair...just, that would be hilarious.


	16. Presents!

Disclaimer: Jesh? Do I really have to do this? I mean, probably, but this is fanfiction. I have twisted characters that piss me off into characters that amuse me. All I get is amusement...and reviews...I love reviews.

BN; Lol, I edited your authors note. Eurgh, I just 'lol'ed.' **For readers;** immolation is the act of setting ones self on fire, usually in form of protest- just thought you might wish to know, never know when you'll need to know that word.

AN: Has anyone else noticed the fact that absolutely nothing happens after Christmas? I mean, Flamel, dragon, Flamel, Flamel, Stone, with a little Dark Lord thrown in. Really doesn't leave much to work with.

*&*&*&&*&*&*

Christmas morning found Draco flying across Harry's room when he decided to wake Harry up by jumping on him. The resulting explosion of noise brought everyone in the house running, and it was decided that presents should be opened.

Harry's take included a wardrobe-full of new clothes from Narcissa, containing only two items Harry hadn't approved and those were understandable as they accompanied a tag that said '_For formal occasions at the Manor_.' He and Draco, after their conversation, had gone with Lucius to Iscarian Alley, another of the side-alleys, this one past Eyelope's Owl Emporium, and had bought a matching set of bracelets made of enchanted metal which was in the shape of snakes, and never stilled once put on. Both put them on as soon as they'd opened the presents, smiling with small nods to each other as the bracelets started winding lazily about their wrists.

Blaise had gotten him a book on simple hexes with a note saying it was the first in a series, and he in return had gotten her a multi-function pocket knife. For Vincent he'd gotten a pair of dragon hide gloves. For Gregory, a set of quill nibs specially made for annotating different kinds of books and scrolls. Together they had gotten him a full set of Quidditch guards and special padding 'for those long games.' Kira had been the hardest for him but he'd finally found a quick-release arm-holster for her wand, charmed to stop her wand from being summoned and he had an extra charm put on it which allowed the holster to grow slightly, allowing for growth of the arm. Her present for him was in a very small box and turned out to be a snitch charm threaded on a thin gold chain, Harry immediately put around his head, letting it fall on the outside of his shirt.

Piles of other presents had to be opened as well. By the time everything was opened Harry was wondering whether he would need to buy another trunk, but that wasn't the last of it.

"Harry." Lucius was behind him, speaking very softly. "Come with me." Harry got up, Gregory automatically following, but Lucius shook his head. Harry patted the larger boy's arm and nodded towards the others then followed his host to a small side room. It was dark, and there was a covered basket on the floor. He turned to Lucius.

"What's up?" He asked.

"I have another present for you Harry. One I hope you will treat with a great deal of care." Lucius gestured to the basket. "After your little show yesterday I went on a trip to pick this up. It's a male Calliophis bivirgatus, a Blue Malaysian Choral Snake. He's very young and will be easy to sneak into the castle under your robes, _if_ he accepts you that is." The basket rattled at their voices. "The species is rather shy, though more active at night. They usually feed almost exclusively on other snakes, but can eat other things so you shouldn't have a problem feeding him. Of course, my son can just summon him dinner." Lucius turned Harry to look at him. "This is a venomous snake Harry, and deadly. If it bonds with you I'm going to give you some anti-venom in case someone gets bitten. I don't want you expelled, after all." Harry nodded.

"Now," Lucius continued briskly, "I'm going to leave you two to get to know each other." With that he turned and walked out. When the door closed Harry could hear the snake whispering in its basket.

"Who's out there? Are you friend or are you foe? Foe beware for I am deadly, I will eat you, swallow you whole. Are you a snake like I? So much the better."

"Hello?" Harry hissed at it, stopping the chattering from the basket.

"Snake?" The snake asked.

"No. Human." Harry replied.

"You sound like a snake."

"I know, but I'm not one."

"Show me." The snake demanded.

"Promise you won't bite me." Harry demanded back. The snake hesitated.

"I promise." It said slowly after a moment. So Harry lifted the lid off the basket and watched as a snake's head poked slowly out, tongue flicking.

"Not a snake." It agreed.

"No."

"Smell good."

"Thank you?" Harry asked questioningly.

"What do you want?" The snake bluntly asked.

"A friend?"

"Friend?" Apparently the concept was unfamiliar to the snake. Harry thought for a minute, wondering why Lucius was giving him a snake, then realized something.

"I am a wizard, snake."

"Wizard." This meant something.

"I want you to be my familiar." He wasn't sure if that was the word they used in this world, but it was in the muggle world.

"Familiar." The snake seemed to be thinking. "I serve you. You protect me."

"Yes." Harry paused. "But you have to do what I say."

"Serve." The snake said again.

"You can't bite humans unless I tell you to." Harry said. "Even if they scare you." The snake hissed unhappily, but thought about it.

"You smell good." Harry waited. "I will serve you wizard." The snake slithered out of the basket and over to Harry, laying its head by his foot.

"Do you have a name?" Harry asked it. "Mine is Harry."

"Harry-master." The snake hissed. "I am," It hissed out something that Harry would never be able to pronounce, nor translate. "It means Vengeance-Flies-Bringing-Fire."

"Uriel." Harry said after wracking his brain. "I'm going to call you Uriel. It's the archangel of vengeance."

"I like it."

"Oh." Harry looked back at the door. "I want to introduce you to my roommate." Uriel slipped back towards the basket as Harry went to the door.

"Hey Gregory!" He waved the boy over.

"What is it?" Gregory asked when the door had closed. "I want you to meet Lucius' present to me." Harry said. "Uriel?" He hissed, and the snake popped back out of the basket. "Here." He held his hand to the snake, who slid up it. "This is my roommate, Gregory. You are never to bite him, understood?"

"Yes, master." Uriel hissed back.

"Greg'ry, this is Uriel." Harry held the snake up. "I wanted you two to meet before everyone else."

"Might I assume this means he took to you?" Lucius' voice from the door made both boys jump and Uriel hiss in displeasure.

"Yes sir." Harry said, soothing Uriel with soft hisses.

Everyone- except Professor Snape- was excited about the last-minute present.

"If I find that snake anywhere near my potions I will turn it into an ingredient." The potions master grumbled.

"If he tried that I will bite him and feed him to every snake in the castle." Uriel retorted when Harry had translated Professor Snape's words for him. "He smells deadly, like death." Harry translated the snake's words, and everyone except the scowling Snape laughed.

Suffice to say, it was the best Christmas Harry had ever had.

**&&**&&**

The rest of the Christmas holidays passed in relative peace. Lucius even let the two boys meet up with Hermione in Diagon Alley, where they spent an afternoon outside of Florean Fortescue's, eating their way through three sundays and recounting the Christmas Dinner Prank, complete with capitals. Harry was wearing his butterfly, and Hermione touched it with a smile. She also thanked Harry profusely for the book he'd gotten her, (Muggleborns Who Made It; A History of Muggleborns Who Won Acclaim in A Pureblood World), and by the end of the day she had actually managed to make Draco smile.

The trip back on the Hogwarts Express was rather unexciting, but their welcome in Slytherin was...overwhelming. Apparently Blaise had sent an owl to the biggest gossips, detailing the prank they'd pulled, and everyone wanted to see the butterflies and hear the story from everyone involved. The common consensus was that, yes, Professor Snape did, indeed, need to wear something besides black.

What didn't get around, on Lucius Malfoy's orders, was Uriel's presence wherever Harry was. The young snake was welcome to stay in his basket at the foot of Harry's bed during the day, but instead often rode hidden in Harry's hood, and Harry had to be very careful when he put his bag on.

School soon settled down and Slytherin, as the winners of the first match, played Hufflepuff, with Professor Snape refereeing. Contrary to everyone's expectations, he was actually quite fair, and Harry's broom behaved perfectly. Harry caught the snitch about forty minutes in, bringing Slytherin the win at 230-60.

Classes passed, the teachers started handing out piles of homework that kept the first years up as long as everyone- except the OWL and NEWT students, who didn't seem to sleep at all. Harry had to give Pansy Parkinson a dose of anti-venom when she decided to 'play' with Uriel and he bit her, not even bothering to apologize to Harry after, which didn't at all bother Harry, mostly because the stupid girl had literally put her hand in Uriel's mouth.

There was a rather large commotion surrounding Hagrid and a dragon. Harry knew of course, but had refused to help feed the beast, and instead told Professor Snape during one of their lessons. A week later the dragon was gone, and Hagrid moped around for a good month. Other than that not much happened.

Harry's time with Ron and Hagrid became much more amusing when he had Uriel to comment to in hissed whispers, and all his friends got good at the serpensortia spell, to Harry's amusement and Uriel's pleasure.

Before he knew it the end of the year had come, their exams were over, and they'd all passed. Only two things stood out. The first was that Professor Quirrel had managed to immolate himself...somewhere. The second was the last conversation Harry had with Professor Snape before packing and leaving for the summer.

"He won't budge." Professor Snape looked ready to kill.

"I really have to go back to the Dursley's?" Harry asked, tense and unhappy, Uriel winding soothingly about the hand he'd raised to his shoulder, hissing soothing thoughts and feelings at his master.

"Yes." Professor Snape sighed. "I have spoken with Lucius, and he will be keeping an eye on you. However, Dumbledore insists on you spending at least two weeks at the Dursley's."

"Understood sir. I suppose he has his reasons." Harry closed his eyes. "Will the Malfoys let me stay with them after those two weeks."

"It has already been arranged." Professor Snape and Harry traded nods and Harry went back to his room to carefully pack. Harry put everything he cared about in one trunk, including his homework, and explained to Hedwig that she was going to have to stay at the Malfoy's but she should visit him as long as the Dursleys didn't find out. Uriel, too, he convinced to stay at the Malfoys.

"Draco'll feed you, and I'll be there in two weeks, but be good." The unhappy serpent agreed.

Finally the day to leave arrived and Harry ate his last meal at Hogwarts, his rattiest robes over an outfit he'd picked up and had not showed any of the Malfoys...or anyone else. He acknowledged the letter telling him he wasn't allowed to use magic, not caring because his wand was tucked in the safe trunk so he couldn't do magic anyway.

The train ride back was, diverting, but too soon the Hogwarts Express had pulled in and they were getting off. Draco and Harry walked over to where Lucius and Narcissa were waiting, and Harry handed over the trunk of stuff he didn't want the Dursley's to have access to along with Hedwig's cage and Uriel's basket.

"Harry." Lucius handed him a wrapped package. "This is a two-way mirror. Most pureblood families have one somewhere. You can call Draco, Narcissa, or myself on it. If you need us or just need to talk do not hesitate to call." Harry nodded, tucking the mirror into his pocket. "Now, I am going to talk to your...guardians." The last word was said with distaste and Harry watch in amusement as Lucius' lip curled.

The Dursleys were waiting on the muggle side of everything and Vernon scowled when he saw Harry approaching with Lucius.

"You must be Vernon Dursley." Lucius said when they had stopped, holding out his hand. Uncle Vernon took it as though it were something dirty, an expression mirrored on Lucius' face. "Lucius Malfoy. Our sons are friends." Uncle Vernon grunted. Dudley was holding onto his bottom with white-knuckled hands. "I will be visiting on a regular basis to supervise...playdates."

"You'll what?" Uncle Vernon, it seemed, had found his voice.

"We will be visiting." Lucius said, his voice deadly. "This is not an option for you. Harry do make sure you keep your self well and healthy. I will be extremely displeased if we come and find you in an unsatisfactory state." With that Lucius turned and left, leaving Harry to the glares of his 'family.'


	17. Home At Last

Disclaimer: Don't own it, etc.

AN1: Sorry for the delay. I went on a mental vacation.

AN2: My beta: imadoodlenoodle: is amazing and puts up with a great deal from me. Everyone should give her a round of applause.

AN3: This is so heavily edited that I believe I am going to call it a joint project between myself and imadoodlenoodle.

^&^%^&^THESTORY^&^%^&^

The first thing Uncle Vernon when they returned to Privet drive was to lock Harry's trunk in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry had fully expected him to take his frustration out on him, but he got a break in the form of an important telephone call. Harry scurried upstairs slipping into his room, which was still full of Dudley's broken crap, and called Draco on the mirror.

"Hey Harry." Draco said. Then, "Harry?" Harry wasn't sure what he looked like, but it probably wasn't good. Uncle Vernon was really, really mad.

"Hey Draco." Harry said.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked. Just as Harry had opened his mouth to respond the door flew open.

"Oh, what's that?" Dudley burst in, grinning and plucking the mirror out of Harry's hands. "Hey, there's a person there." Dudley's brow furrowed in confusion and his voice was puzzled.

"Yes, there is." Draco's voice drawled out, almost causing Dudley to drop the mirror...almost. Suddenly there were feet on the stairs.

"Stay there." Dudley said to the mirror and he tucked it into his pocket.

"His name is Draco Malfoy." Harry said quickly right before Uncle Vernon stormed in.

"Out Dudley. Your cousin and I are going to be having a few words." Dudley scampered. Harry stood up, facing his uncle on his feet. "I don't care who that man is boy, I'll not have any of your sort in my house. He's not coming into this house." Without warning Vernon's fist fell, hitting Harry across the head. Harry saw Snitches as he crumpled to the floor, but he forced himself back to his feet.

*&*&*&*

For Christmas Petunia and Vernon had given Dudley a pile of catalogues to look through, to help him decided what they should get him for Christmas. In true Dudley fashion, Dudley had wanted a lot of things, all of which were presented to him on Christmas Day. Also like in true Dudley fashion, half of these presents were opened and discarded almost immediately.

A couple of days after Dudley's school broke up for the summer he had been bored, and had gone through some of the things scattered around his bedroom. One of the things Dudley had 'found,' was a spy surveillance system. Remembering the Freak would be home soon Dudley decided to see what he would get up to in his room. Although his parents hated it Dudley wanted to see some real magic and hoped the Freak would provide. So when Dudley was kicked out of the room the first thing he did was to go and turn on his receiver and watch.

Dudley watched through the spy-surveillance system and watched through the camera he'd set up in Harry's room that morning, frozen by the brutality his father was showing. His father never hit _him_. He knew Harry got hit, but _this?_ It was...

"What, is going on?" A voice from the mirror made him jump.

"Um...look?" Dudley turned the mirror towards his computer screen. There was a choking noise and he turned the mirror to see the boy with his mouth open.

"Stay there." The boy turned away and shouted something. Less than a minute later, though seemingly longer for Dudley, who was watching his father, who had removed his belt and was using it on his cousin, a man, the same man from the train station, appeared.

"Turn the mirror again." The boy, Draco, Harry had said, ordered. He did so.

"Boy." The voice of the older man. "I want you to turn the mirror slowly in a circle so I can see your entire room." Dudley did so, wondering why...until a loud crack made him drop the mirror and stare as the man appeared in his room.

"Where?" The man asked impatiently and Dudley pointed out the door, watching as the the man stalked out. Dudley picked up the mirror, somehow unbroken, to see the boy's face.

"Let me watch." The boy said and so Dudley turned the mirror. Both boys watched as Draco's dad strode onto the screen, grabbed Vernon in the middle of a blow, and pointed a wand in his face.

**&&**&&**

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you." That was Lucius' voice. Harry struggled through the pain of flayed flesh and broken bones. Vernon had been really, really mad. Three hits and a rib cracked, a throw and his arm was broken, the belt and even his shirt stood no chance of protecting him from the pure fury.

"How dare you! This is my hou-"

"-not a reason."

"Lucius." Harry choked out, his throat raw from suppressing screams.

"Harry." Lucius said looking down, but not releasing his grip, nor letting Vernon fully out of his sight or his wands line of fire. "Do not tell me you're going to tell me not to kill him." Harry nodded. "Why?"

"Dudley." Harry croaked out, "needs a dad." Somehow Harry heaved himself to his knees, his broken arm hugged tight to his chest, every breath taken in agony. But Harry didn't care, he had to stop Lucius. He stood up, clinging to the pristine robes in front of him. He forced himself to tip his head up and look into the man's eyes. "I want to." He mouthed, knowing Lucius would understand. The man nodded, releasing Vernon and scooping Harry up with the same arm. That was too much, and Harry blacked out.

When he woke up Harry was surrounded by white, distressed hissing in his ear and an even more distressed voice quickly becoming clear.

"Master is hurt. Master sent Uriel away and now master is hurt."

"That is a deadly snake! Are you trying to kill him?" That was Madam Pomfrey.

"Of course not." Lucius, Harry recognized.

"Uriel should have been there to protect master."

"Hush Uriel." Harry hissed out, his throat somehow healed. He recognized the taste of potions on his tongue.

"Oh." Madam Pomfrey said, blinking in surprise.

"Yeah. Oh." That was Draco.

"Ignore the snake." Harry said normally, looking through blurry eyes towards the three people at the foot of his bed.

"Mister Potter, you're awake." One of the figures approached.

"Harry?" Lucius approached the other side.

"Look, I need to examine him, but I'm not doing that with a snake in his bed."

"Go to Draco." Harry hissed at Uriel.

"Master!" If a snake could shriek Uriel would have.

"Go to Draco, Uriel." Harry said firmly and he felt the snake moving away.

The Draco-blob, recognized by its shorter stature and the halo that seemed to surround his head, held out a hazy arm immediately.

"Draco, stay right by the bed." Harry cautioned.

"Right, because I'm dumb enough to leave with Uriel when he has almost killed us already, when he smelled your blood on father." Sarcasm covering fear, typical. Harry smiled.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over Harry, muttering under her breath. Finally she sighed.

"Well, I'd like to keep him here overnight, make sure everything is healed up alright, but this really isn't much worse than the first night I saw him." There was a moment of silence.

"What?" Draco asked blankly.

"Professor Snape brought him in the first night of term." Madam Pomfrey said calmly, bustling about. That seemed to render Draco speechless, which let Harry hear the door opening.

"I have the potions." Professor Snape's tightly controlled voice washed over Harry like a comforting wave.

"Which we would have had if we were doing this in the hospital wing." Madam Pomfrey grumbled.

"Yes, because we want Dumbledore sending him straight back there." Professor Snape practically growled.

"No!" Madam Pomfrey, Lucius, Draco, and Harry all said at once.

"Yes," Professor Snape replied, "something about blood magic protecting Harry from the Dark Lord and his minions."

"You're joking." Harry said, the only one of the four who could actually speak. He struggled to sit up, only feeling a small wince from his ribs and arm. Immediately, Draco was at his side, helping him up, Uriel slithering back to settle across Harry's shoulder.

"I am not, Mister Potter." Professor Snape said.

"Well then. Dumbledore can bloody well go to hell, and when he does I'll take not even a moment to piss on his grave." Harry said, hunting his glasses off the bedside table and putting them on. He looked around, noting and discarding the shocked expressions on the faces around him. The room itself was small, barely a closet compared to most other rooms in the Manor, but the door was open, and he saw the familiar halls beyond.

"Well, this is all well and good," Madam Pomfrey finally got her voice back, "but this boy needs sleep so out, all of you." Harry saw Severus hand her a dreamless sleep potion, and when she gave it to him he took it quickly, barely having time to put the bottle and his glasses down before he tumbled into darkness.

The next night wasn't so good. He woke up screaming. Three times. The first time Draco was there, and he sent his friend back to bed. The second time Lucius and Draco were there, and he sent them both off. The third time Professor Snape was there, Gregory with him, and he gave in to the inevitable.

"He's not going to be able to handle summer at the Manor." Professor Snape was standing, arms crossed, his usual glower on his face. Harry was tucked into his bed, Gregory's arms around him, a place so familiar and comfortable that he wasn't even bothered by the fact that a conversation was going on about him without his input. "And the Manor is most definitely not going to be able to handle him."

"And Spinner's End can?" Lucius sounded extremely irritated.

"No, but I don't care if he razes Spinner's End to the ground." Harry looked around at that comment, and saw the utter destruction that was everything except the bed.

"Oh." The quiet breath caught Gregory's attention, and Uriel's.

"Master?" The hiss of the snake accompanied Gregory's "Harry?"

"Harry?" Lucius, Severus, and an invisible Draco echoed.

"Look, let me take him back to Spinner's End until he gets the nightmares under control." Professor Snape said. "Lucius, you can deal with the Ministry while he's out of sight." Snape dictated.

"Father, do it." Draco said, and when Harry looked over his friend looked scared...scared of Harry. That was too much, and a tear formed in Harry's eye. He stopped paying attention as the adults figured out what to do with him.


	18. The Blaise Chapters 2

Disclaimer: Not mine etc

AN: imadoodlenoodle did so much work on this it's not even funny, particularly in respects to the notes. R&R please!

*&*&^&*&*

_Harry Potter_

_Family Allies: __**No formal allies.**_

_Possible Allies due to Family:_  
_Paternal Grandmother; Dorea Black, (from the fourth family line of Black)._  
_Paternal Great Uncles; Pollux Black and Marius Black._  
_Paternal Great Aunts; Cassiopeia. _  
_Pollux Black married Irma Crabbe. Eldest daughter was Walburga Black nee Black. Walburga married into the main Black line. _  
_Eldest son, Cygnus Black married Druella Rosier. Founded the second family line of Black._  
_Cygnus Black is the current patriarch of the Black family due to the incarceration of the should-be head Sirius Orion Black._

_Possible Allies: _

_the Malfoys_

_the Goyles_

_Age: Eleven_  
_Date of Birth: 31__st__ of July 1980_  
_Home Address: __**Unknown**_  
_Floo Address: __**Unknown**_

_School: Hogwarts_  
_House: Slytherin_  
_Current Year: First_  
_House Quidditch Team: Seeker (1__st__ Year)_  
_Broom: Nimbus 2000_

_Standing in House: Complicated... _

_Friends:  
Gregory Goyle_  
_Draco Malfoy_  
_Blasie Zabini_  
_Vincent Crabbe_  
_Kira White_  
_Hermione Granger (?)(Gryffindor)_

_Is willing to spend time with Ronald Weasley, but doesn't like the boy. _

_Disappears for an hour on Monday and Thursday afternoons, but not always._

_When asked tells Slytherins Professor Snape is giving him lessons because he was raised muggle, but tells everyone else he has remedial potions_

_**I don't entirely believe this.**_

_Contained: Doesn't let people too close.  
There is something HP's not revealing, something about his past, something important. _

_**Further Research Required.**_

_'Family Allies is the spot that is always the hardest to fill in. All the cross referencing could drive one mad. Especially with a family like the Blacks.' _Blaise thought. Pollux Black for instance, was born into the fourth family line of Black but his children were of the second family line of Black because the second and third line had only had girls and they had married into the families Longbottom and Crouch respectively. Blaise did not think that Cygnus Black would support Harry, due to his support of the Dark Lord. The only other members of that family line were Bellatrix LeStrange, Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy. LeStrange was out of the question and the Malfoys were already close to Harry. Tonks had no political power and had been blasted off of the family tree by her aunt.

Blaise Zabini lay on her bed, heels kicking the air absently, as she read through her entry on Harry. She had a feeling about this summer. In the week after exams were done Harry had gotten more and more edgy, snapping out without noticing, looking around like he was trying to remember everything about the castle, every little detail, every person, place, even Peeves. Then he'd disappeared for an hour again, and Blaise decided to stay in the common room, hidden, until he got back. He'd looked a lot better, and when he went upstairs he was, not relaxed, but less tense.

Tomorrow they would leave Hogwarts for the summer, and while Blaise was looking forward to spending some quality time with her mother, she wasn't so sanguine about Harry's reception. Something told her he wasn't in Slytherin just because he could talk to snakes. No, something else was going on.

*&*&^&*&*

"WHAT?" The unexpected shout from downstairs woke Blaise up in the middle of the night, her first night home. She tumbled out of bed, grabbing her wand, tripped over her sheets, and her trunk...and a few books sprawled across the floor, and finally made it out of her room.

"They did not!" Blaise tumbled down the stairs, failing to crack her head open because she was used to tumbling down the stairs, and always caught herself on the banister at the last possible moment.

"Missus Zabini," that was Professor Snape's voice! What was Professor Snape doing in her house...at however early in the morning! "Please, stop shouting." Blaise burst into the living room in time to see her Professor lowering his hands from his ears and her mother with a completely stunned expression on her face.

"Ah, Miss Zabini." Professor Snape nodded at her, "I apologize for waking you."

"What's going on Professor?" Blaise asked, wand very much in evidence, held tightly in her hand.

Professor Snape rubbed his forehead with a hand. "Sit." He said, gesturing towards the couch. Blaise would have argued, but her mother sat, so she followed, and Professor Snape settled into a hard-backed chair.

"Mister Potter is going to need somewhere to stay for the last few weeks of summer." He looked at Blaise. "As, out of all his close friends, you are the only one who isn't currently living with a male parental figure," his gaze transferred to Blaise's mother, "I was wondering if you would be willing to take him in. You don't have to decide now."

"Why does it matter whether there's a male in the house." Blaise's mother was looking at Professor Snape the same way she looked at potential...mates. Professor Snape looked at her, looked at Blaise, and sighed.

"Because his uncle has a habit of using him as a punching bag, and had Lucius Malfoy not intervened, would have killed him tonight. He's stable." Professor Snape cut Blaise off before she could freak out. "However, he will need somewhere to stay while I am dealing with school matters at the end of the summer, and I fear he may not be entirely comfortable around most of his friends' fathers."

"And you don't count as an adult male?" Blaise's mother challenged.

"Mrs. Zabini, I am familiar with how he will respond to this incident, he is not threatened by my presence, and he and I have developed a strong working relationship that is closer than most student-teacher relationships but does not tread anywhere near impropriety." Professor Snape's voice was like ice.

"Really?" The arched tones of disbelief were getting annoying. Blaise looked at her mum, and sighed.

"Mum, leave it." She turned to meet her Professor's eyes. "Harry trusts Professor Snape."

"Fine." Her mother was getting that 'some one's trying to thwart me' tone of voice. "Bring the boy over when he's stable enough and I'll see if we get on." She rose, her night robes flowing about her like water.

"Is she always like that?" Professor Snape looked at the door her form had disappeared through, a bemused expression on his face.

"Nah, that was pretty good." Blaise said, sprawling the length of the couch with a grin. She wasn't usually allowed up this late, but she was wide awake now, and her mum seemed to have forgotten her presence...that or she was letting the two of them talk alone. It wasn't like her mum to forget things about people.

"Tell me you're joking." Professor Snape was rather more dry than usual.

"I wish." Blaise popped back into a sitting position. "Want something to drink before you go? Tea? Old-style coca-cola? That was a joke Professor." She snickered at his wide eyes.

"I now no longer trust you to serve me anything, thank you Miss Zabini." He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning either. In fact, he mostly looked like he was thinking...hard.

"Um, sir?" She grinned behind her mask of Slytherin cool. "You might want to stop sir, before you hurt yourself."

"Stop what, precisely, Miss Zabini?" He looked at her, quite confused.

"Thinking sir." She grinned a grin that had much humor and also much malice in it. He groaned, sinking back to the couch and burying his head in his hands.

"Your friend is currently installed in Malfoy Manor, where I have warned Lucius he will destroy at least the room he's in with accidental magic. I can quite assure you that I'm going to get a call within the next hour telling me he's woken up screaming at least twice, and now that I'm done here I have to go let Mister Goyle's parents know I need him to help me contain an out-of-control student using accidental, wandless magic." He glared at her. "And you're telling me to stop thinking."

"Wait, why Gregory?" Blaise was interested now.

"We knew what was going to happen." Snape shook himself slightly and leaned back, looking up at his student. "We knew because Mister Potter came to Hogwarts covered in bruises and scars. Unfortunately the Headmaster insisted that we send him back to his relatives' house. We didn't think it would be this bad, and even through the dreamless sleep potion we gave him he's going to be expelling magic for the next few days any time he's unconscious and even becomes uncomfortable." He met her eyes, and she saw something she never, ever wanted to see. She saw her Professor, her Head of House, an _adult_, looking helpless. Then it went away. "So you see why I must think?"

"Yes, Professor." She looked down, looked away. She was going to break them. No. Harry was going to break them. She was going to teach him, really teach him, and he was going to break them. The anger rose, and she reigned it in, but she would use it eventually.

Blaise showed Professor Snape out, and retreated to her room, but not to sleep. She pulled out her notebook, and started to write.

*&^&*&^&*

"Hey mum! I'm going out to find Tony and bring him over!" Blaise shouted through the house. It was noon the next day, and she had some planning to do.

"Just try to be nice!" Was the response, and she immediately slipped out, running beyond the property limits before her mother could change her mind.

Tony was at home, and Blaise watched him carefully when he saw her. His eyes flashed with an instant of fear, immediately covered by warmth and welcome. He smiled, serene, and quickly got parental permission to go over to her house. This was good, this was perfect.

"So, Tony." Blaise was flopped on her bed, Tony sitting quite still on her floor, his eyes never leaving her, waiting for instruction. He was brilliant for a twelve-year-old boy, and that's why she'd chosen him...back when he was nine anyway. "I've got a problem. A friend of mine has some pretty bad guardians. They're his aunt and uncle actually, and it's mostly his uncle, but they hurt him. They need to be punished." She looked him in the eyes. "Speak."

"Child services?" He asked, knowing to run through the obvious first, though that was mostly to give the problem a chance to run through the recesses of his brain.

"Won't work. It's not in any way a punishment, and then they'd be in my friend's business, and that will mess with school." She sighed. "Next."

"Siblings?"

"He's got a cousin, but I think he likes the boy a bit. I don't have nearly enough information. Next."

"Both bad or just the uncle?" It was typical for one parent or guardian to simply stand back while the other actually inflicted the pain.

"I'm not sure. Damnit!" Blaise jumped from her bed, pacing around the room. Tony stayed perfectly still. "Why don't I have enough information? And I'm not going to be seeing him until much later. I want to have this all planned out before he stays over." She continued to pace, not looking at him. He had an idea, but she didn't see it, didn't give him permission to speak it, until she whirled and saw the look of concentration on his face. "What?"

"Why not wait? If he's coming over you can get more information then, and make sure he's okay with any plan you make. He's our age, they're adults. Revenge can wait, and should." He fell silent, but Blaise was staring at him.

"Home, Tony. I have some thinking to do." She fell into the chair by her desk, pulling out a quill, some ink, and a couple of pieces of parchment. Behind her Tony rose to pad quietly out of the room.

Blaise paid no attention, her focus riveted on the parchment in front of her as her quill scratched away, putting down everything she knew. When she had run out of facts she drew a line across the page and started putting down her guesses. She would fix this, fix them. They wouldn't know what hit them.

But Tony was right, she needed Harry's input. After all, it concerned him most thoroughly.

"Blaise! I'm feeding Tony before he goes home!"

"Okay mum!" She turned back to the page.

_**Unfinished business**_

Bold and underlined, the marker would cause a summary of said business to flash every time she opened her journal. She tucked the pages into the book, closing it and activating the magic her mother had created. That done she padded downstairs for her own lunch.


	19. Spinner's End

Disclaimer: Standard

A/N: Aesop's fables are a (farely large) collection of fables centered around animals, and written with a moral. Any book of Aesops is a collection of fables.

Spinner's End was a fascinating house. The outside looked like absolutely nothing, but the inside...Harry walked through the front door, left his shoes in the hallway, and stepped into heaven. A sitting room, the walls lined with bookshelves, lit by the standard lanterns and torches when the sun wasn't shining through the window, though how sun even reached the window was uncertain, as other houses surrounded Professor Snape's. Harry was still a bit shaky, still jumpy as hell, but this was amazing. He walked to a wall, looked at the books, and had to double take.

"They're muggle books." He looked back at Professor Snape, who was watching him with a careful eye.

"Indeed." No movement, no urging Harry to see the rest of the house, just calm waiting.

"Why?" Harry went back to browsing.

"My father loved to read, as did my mother. I inherited their libraries and saw no reason to get rid of them. The magical books are all in the library, through that door." Harry looked back to see him pointing to one of the three breaks in the bookshelf, this one the furthest to the right from the entrance.

"Where do the other two lead?" He asked, turning back towards his Professor.

"That one," Professor Snape pointed to the one across from the entrance, "leads to the dining room. The other is a lavatory. Perhaps I should show you around?" Harry nodded, and they proceeded to walk the entire house. Dining room led to a kitchen and the stairs, both up and down. Up were personal rooms: Professor Snape's bedroom, and the guest room, where they left the trunks. Down was a potions lab, complete with dust covers for everything because the house had to be empty for nine or ten months at a time while Snape was at Hogwarts teaching.

Both of them stood in the door to the lab, watching dust float about in the recently stirred air currents. Professor Snape had already cleared the rest of the house, but hadn't had a chance to deal with the lab.

"Why don't you go unpack your stuff while I take care of this." The suggestion had merit, and, though Harry didn't much want to be alone, he also didn't want to say 'no' to the Professor.

"Okay sir." Harry turned and disappeared into the rest of the house.

Unpacking wasn't very difficult. Uriel wasn't leaving him for any reason, so he just left his basket by the bed, Hedwig's cage next to it. He put his books on the desk in the room, and his clothes in the dresser-wardrobe, leaving his robes in the trunk and shoving it under the bed.

"Come on Uriel." He hissed, standing and observing his handiwork. "Let's see what books he has." The only response was the snake's head rubbing his jawline.

The sitting room was a little more relaxing. Harry perused the books, not looking at the titles, but at which were the most used. Turning away from one of the shelves he noticed a book laying open on the couch as though it had been put down recently. He walked over to it, and picked it up. It was a large yet slim hardbound book entitled _The AESOP for CHILDREN_, the innards covered with bright vivid images of animals frolicking about, the script had been printed by muggle machines.

Harry looked at the open page, his eyes tracing the image on one page of talons holding a mouse tied to a frog, across words, across the centerfold of the book, and was caught by a title. _The Serpent and the Eagle_ shouted out to him to be read.

"Huh." He spoke automatically in parseltongue as he read the story aloud. "A Serpent had succeeded in surprising an Eagle and had wrapped himself around the Eagle's neck. The Eagle could not reach the Serpent, neither with beak nor claws. Far into the sky he soared trying to shake off his enemy. But the Serpent's hold only tightened, and slowly the Eagle sank back to earth, gasping for breath.

"A Countryman chanced to see the unequal combat. In pity for the noble Eagle he rushed up and soon had loosened the coiling Serpent and freed the Eagle.

"The Serpent was furious. He had no chance to bite the watchful Countryman. Instead he struck at the drinking horn, hanging at the Countryman's belt, and into it let fly the poison of his fangs.

"The Countryman now went on toward home. Becoming thirsty on the way, he filled his horn at a spring, and was about to drink. There was a sudden rush of great wings. Sweeping down, the Eagle seized the poisoned horn from out his savior's hands, and flew away with it to hide it where it could never be found.

_'An act of kindness is well repaid.'_" Harry reached a hand to run it along Uriel's head as the snake muttered nothingness. He started flipping absently forwards through the book until he ran across an image that looked like the Headmaster if he'd ever deigned to wear brown. Harry read the story to himself, smiling, but only read the moral out loud.

_'Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves.'_ He continued perusing the book, reading some parts to Uriel, smiling, and even laughing a few times. He didn't notice when Professor Snape walked into the room, and so was startled when he spoke.

"I see you've discovered the wisdom of Aesop." Harry leaped from the couch, the book clutched to his chest, heart racing, panic overcoming him. Behind him he heard something crack, and Professor Snape raised two empty hands.

"Whoah. Harry, easy." Neither moved as Harry tried to breathe, tension in every line of his body. His eyes locked with his Professor's as the man moved very slowly into the room, finally reaching Harry and enveloping him in a hug that released the tension in him as uncontrollable trembling. He started whimpering, not realizing he was making any noise, unable to stop the shaking of his body.

Harry barely noticed when Professor Snape sank onto the couch, pulling him down as well. He didn't pay attention when his body curled into the fetal position, his attention riveted on each breath, sucking it in and pushing it out. The familiar black cloth of Professor Snape's robes helped. He was able to convince his brain to calm down, steady his breath, and bring himself back to the present.

Eventually his shaking slowed, then stopped altogether, and he shifted of his own accord to look up at his Head of House. The calm, concerned face looked back at him, eyes that held so much pain somehow smiling.

"Congratulations, Mister Potter." Professor Snape's voice held...pride? "I'm impressed." He was, of course, speaking of Harry getting his emotions under control. Harry beamed. "Now, I need to start a potion before making lunch. Do you wish to remain here, or join me in the lab?"

"Lab?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd truly be allowed.

"Lab it is." Professor Snape rose, pulling Harry up with him, and headed straight for the lab.

Harry stuck himself in a corner, the book of fables still clutched to his chest, but watched as Professor Snape puttered around the lab, lighting a fire beneath one cauldron, pulling down sealed jars of ingredients, setting a timer and putting two more aside. It was fascinating, and the peaceful expression was one he'd never seen on his Head's face before. He didn't want to break the mood, but at the same time he was insanely curious. Finally he decided to find a moment to break the silence that wouldn't be too disruptive.

"What are you making Professor?" He asked when Professor Snape was putting a cutting board down, a safe enough task. Still, he jumped, seeming to have forgotten Harry's presence.

"Anti-allergy potion." He said, calming himself before taking up the next ingredient.

"Will you tell me about it? Describe what you are doing and whatnot?" Harry asked, curious. He'd enjoyed potions, and was good enough at it, but whatever his Professor was doing was currently beyond him, and he was curious.

"Of course. Come over here." Harry joined Professor Snape, and spent the next hour watching his deft hands manipulate ingredients, his voice explaining each step. Though Harry didn't know it, Snape found that he enjoyed the company, and fell into a rhythm in his explanations.

The timers were all set to a gentle alert, so the soft tone, like a muffled gong, didn't startle either of them. Snape finished the last active step for the potion, and set it to simmer, setting a second timer, one one that was tied to the flame, and would turn it off when the time was over.

"Come on, lunch." The two left the lab, washing their hands carefully at the sink near the door, and walked to the kitchen. This time, instead of just watching, Harry helped put together the sandwiches they'd be eating, and the pair was soon settled at the table, plates in front of them, cups of water and napkins the only other necessary blemishes on the hard wood.

Within three days a pattern developed. Harry would spend the day studying, going with Professor Snape, who told him to call him Severus on the second day, to collect ingredients, and helping with potions. The focus required by the ingredients was calming, soothing, and even Uriel got used to the smell of potions, and of Severus' presence. Nights Harry would go to sleep with Uriel's comforting mutterings, and at some point he would wake up screaming and the surprisingly strong arms of his Professor, Head of House, and protector, would wrap around him. The man who'd never had children, but worked with them, had seen nothing wrong with asking Gregory for a lesson in soothing colicky three, now four, -year-olds, and had learned well how to apply that to Harry. Harry would fall back to sleep with soothing hands and voice of Severus mingling with Uriel's hissing and head-stroking.

Every day they would spend at least an hour going over the Occlumency lessons from the year before, and on the fifth night Harry sleapt straight through the night. He'd still had bad dreams, but not scream-worthy ones. As a reward for the work he'd been doing towards getting back to a stable state Severus took him to visit Blaise for a half-day.


	20. Music Camp

So sorry for the delay. Life is catching up to me, and I'm in one of those places where I have to actually work out a schedule so I can get all my homework done before I play with Messers Potter, Malfoy, etc. Therefore updates and the like will be spotty until I get school under control, and will be less frequent than my original posting schedule unless I get brainsplosions, which do happen on occasion.

Disclaimer: standard

A/N: Just a warning: I find it reprehensible that there is so little -good- music in the magical world, and am therefore rectifying the situation.

A/Rant: To any and all review, past and future, that tell me what house or gender someone is supposed to be in I have two words for you: Alternate. Universe.

To JBPM: No. In canon, Dumbledore was a lion. JKR didn't sort people by their personality, she sorted them by where she -wanted- them to be.

B/N: You must admit though, that Dumbledore is courageous and brave though, and of course, people change over time. He might have been a complete Gryffindor when younger. also, because he was the deputy Headmaster, we could assume that he was Head of Gryffindor, merely because it is unusual to give a plain teacher the job of Headmaster, (Umbridge, not counting because she was not a normal teacher and circumstances certainly were not either).

*&*&^&*&*

The slim, three-story house belonging to the Zabini family was a refreshing change from the sprawling Malfoy Manor and the modern Spinner's End. The inside was pleasantly decorated, light walls and ceiling complimented by darker furniture that created a sense of enclosed comfort. As soon as Harry stepped through the door Blaise bounded towards him, grinning manically.

"Harry! Let's go to my room, shall we?" Blaise pulled him away from the adults and up to the third floor, completely ignoring her mother's call to 'introduce the poor boy'.

The first thing Harry noticed about Blaise's room was that it was clean. There were no books or clothes strewn about, everything was in a very particular place, and her bed was made with military precision. Even the closed journal on her desk, pen and inkwell nearby, looked like it was supposed to be there, though Blaise put it away as soon as she noticed it still out. She didn't say anything at first, just letting Harry look around, and his eyes landed on a music stand in a well-lit corner, stacks of music and an instrument case on the triangular table behind it.

"You play an instrument?" Harry asked, eyes wide with envy.

"Flute." Blaise said absently, not actually watching him. "Don't you?"

"No. The Dursleys said I was too stupid and clumsy to waste lessons on." Harry said, his eyes locked on the instrument case. "I always wanted to learn to play the violin."

"What?" Blaise asked, and he turned to see her staring at him. "You don't play an instrument? None?"

He shook his head dejectedly.

"We'll see about that. Violin you said?" She stormed to her desk and scribed out two missives, then ran out. Harry followed her, and caught the tail-end of an owl disappearing out a back window, a second fluttering down the stairs.

"What was that about?" He asked, a little concerned.

"You'll see." Blaise looked at him, and he wasn't sure he liked what he saw in her eyes. "Now, let's talk."

And so, for the next half-hour she grilled him mercilessly about the Dursleys, paying no heed to the look on his face that said quite plainly that he wished the topic closed.

*&^&*&^&*

It was inevitable that the conversation would have a negative impact on him, and, of course, Harry barely made it an hour into sleep before he was awake and screaming. Yet somehow this was different, because below the fear, the utter terror of his uncle's fist and belt, there was a slowly smoldering anger.

Harry woke to strong arms around him and a soothing voice in his ear, but instead of acquiescing to the suggestion of falling back into sleep he struggled from the bed. Once standing he froze, shaking, the emotions flying through him with such strength that he couldn't think.

Slowly, slowly the command to breathe, "In, that's right, and out. Come on Harry, just focus on breathing, in...out...in...out...," filtered past the haze across his senses. He listened, consciously drew himself from the emotions and lost himself in the voice, calmly telling him what to do. For once there were no arms around him, the comfort of touch that he'd come to crave as much as he feared it was absent, and it felt okay. The lack let him handle his emotions on his own, respecting their power and harnessing them as a proper Slytherin should.

Finally he was in control again, no longer shaking with rage and fear, no longer blind and deaf to the world. He raised his eyes to meet the worried depths of Severus', saw the window behind the man, and wiped everything from his mind for a moment.

"This is stupid." He met Severus' eyes again, calm, cool, collected.

"It will take time." Severus said as Harry settled back into the bed.

"Stupid." Harry repeated, closing his eyes and blanking his mind until he slipped back into slumber. He didn't see the proud look that flitted across Severus' face.

*&*&*&^&*&*&*

Being jarred awake by a Blaise bouncing on his chest wasn't Harry's idea of a good way to greet the day. Neither was wondering why there was a Blaise in Severus' house. Creeping downstairs to listen to Severus and Mrs. Zabini talking on the other hand...

"I'll keep the rest of them at my house, but I do insist he start lessons right away." Mrs. Zabini's voice was only slightly distorted by the closed door.

"Of course." Severus' voice was almost too soft to hear. "You've arranged everything with the afternoon camp?"

"Yes. I know you like having your little helper of a morning." Hidden laughter like bells too soft to actually vibrate the air surrounded the words. "Lucius and Draco have also agreed to the arrangement."

"You're certain this is all within your means?"

"Obviously, Professor Snape, or I wouldn't do it. Consider all of this an early birthday present for the boy. Not that I won't get him something then as well. He's been sorely neglected by those things." The conversation stalled, and Harry glanced towards Blaise right before the door they were hiding behind, opened.

"Ah, children. Good of you to join us." Mrs. Zabini said, her eyes sparkling in a way that Harry recognized as a parent whose child was getting away with nothing.

"Good morning Missus Zabini, good morning Severus." Harry stepped into the room, Blaise behind him.

"Good morning children." Mrs. Zabini said. "Now, I believe we've done everything we needed to do here so Harry, you and Professor Snape can have your house back, and I'll come pick you up at twelve forty-five." She rose, holding a hand out to Blaise, who was grinning with an evil glint in her eyes. Harry wasn't worried. She never had an evil glint unless she was doing something good. It was the innocent smile he was afraid of.

"Um, might I ask why?" He queried before she could leave.

"Your violin lessons of course. Didn't Blaise tell you?" Mrs. Zabini looked at her daughter, who put her innocent face on. "Ah. I see. Harry, you'll be going to afternoon music camp with Blaise for the rest of the summer. Your violin is on the table." With that she walked out, leaving Harry with his mouth hanging open.

"Breakfast, Harry." Severus said after a minute, less stunned than Harry, not that he would have shown anything but calm had anything else been the case.

"Right. Breakfast." Harry turned back to Severus, and couldn't help the grin that replaced the fish-face. "Breakfast, then potions, then lunch, then MUSIC CAMP!" Harry yelled the two words, but continued before he could be reprimanded. "The Occlumency, then dinner, then study, then bed. Rinse. Repeat." He stuck his tongue out, letting Severus know he was, indeed, referencing shampoo, and ran into the kitchen.

*&*&*&^&*&*&*

Harry was a nervous wreck by the time twelve forty-five rolled around, and he followed Mrs. Zabini and Blaise out to the street with trepidation. He took Mrs. Zabini's arm when she told him to, endured the side-along apparition, and shifted his pack uncomfortably. Severus had filled it with a snack, ink, quills, parchment and, strangely, graphite, along with his -_his!_- violin. He was dressed in one of his more casual outfits, and kept fiddling with his collar, or more accurately the Uriel under his collar.

Mrs. Zabini took them to a short, squat building reminiscent of the muggle school Harry had attended. It was two stories with regular windows, a double door, and a number of Wizarding children running about. The outside was a boring off-white, but the inside was covered with student work; collages and paintings, a wall of music, posters, and a large Hogwarts crest at one end.

Blaise ran off as soon as they entered the building proper, while Mrs. Zabini took Harry's arm and led him to an office.

"Ah. Missus Zabini." A tall man with short brown hair, a summer suit (wizarding style of course), and long, calloused fingers walked in from another door and took Mrs. Zabini's hand. "And this must be young Mister Potter." Harry shook his hand, and watched him warily. He was in a new place, and new places meant strangers. New school-like places meant strangers with authority.

The door Harry had come through opened again.

"Ah. Misters Malfoy." Harry's head snapped around, and sure enough Draco and Lucius had entered.

"Draco." Harry said, unsure how his friend would feel. After all, the last time he'd seen Draco the boy had been afraid of him because he'd just destroyed a room in Malfoy Manor, wandlessly...while under the influence of Dreamless Sleep.

"Hey Harry." Draco smiled, and Harry relaxed. Things weren't precisely as they'd been, but Draco wasn't afraid of him.

"Harry." Lucius said, smiling at his son and pseudo-son (though Harry didn't know yet).

"Mister Malfoy." Harry gave a slight bow.

"Walk with me for a minute Harry. We're not needed here." Lucius took the single step to open the door again, and Harry followed immediately. Harry trusted Lucius. Plus, he was cool.

"I'm sorry about the room." Harry said after the door had closed completely.

"No matter Harry, it was easy enough to fix, and Narcissa had ben wanting to redecorate." Both cringed even as they started walking down the hall. "You frightened Draco, but he is coping admirably. I believe you will find that he has only to reacquaint himself with your in a safe environment and the rest of his fear will turn to anger at those _muggles_."

"I hope so." Harry said wistfully, then looked up. "Um, Lucius? Why are you two here?"

"'Risa didn't explain?" Lucius looked surprised for a moment, then smirked. "Of course not. Draco will be your mentor here. Everyone who attends is assigned a mentor who plays the same instrument. You already know Draco, and he's been taking lessons since he was five so he volunteered."

"Draco plays the violin?" Harry asked, wondering how he'd never noticed.

"And Gregory and Vincent play the viola and cello respectively." Lucius replied with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Oy! Harry!" The two turned to see Draco standing outside the office. "Come on or you'll be late!"

"Bye Lucius." Harry waved and ran to Draco, who dragged him towards a room.

"Sucks that you gotta be with the younger kids, but hopefully you'll pick it all up faster." Draco gabbled as he towed Harry towards a room. "They'll move you up when they think you're ready though, that's how it works, and I've already talked to the teacher. She'll work with you while the babies take breaks and play and do art or whatever." Harry, though nervous, was glad to see Draco push open a door.

"Ah. Mister Malfoy. So this must be Mister Potter." A woman wearing a quiet black robe said, smiling at the pair. She was presiding over a class of three five and six year-olds, each sitting at a desk with a violin case on it and a magically adjusted music stand next to it.

"Missus Cavall." Draco half-bowed, and Harry mimicked him. "Harry, I'll be back after class. Put your pack in the cubby with your name, your shoes on the rack underneath, hang your cloak, when you bring one, on one of the hooks, and take your violin with you to your desk." Harry nodded, and got his stuff put away as Draco ran out of the room.

"Alright then. Mister Potter, if you'll take your seat we'll get started." Mrs. Cavall had a nice voice, and Harry started to relax. "I'm going to start the others, and then work with you individually so you can catch up. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes ma'am." Harry replied, taking his seat and folding his hands.

Harry watched as Mrs. Cavall started the others on a basic warm-up, then listened closely as she explained everything he needed to know about the violin, handed him some reading materials because he was old enough to understand them, and taught him how to hold the violin and bow. By the end of the first day he could play most of the open strings without making unpleasant sounds, and was learning to read music.

This first day set a pattern for Harry's summer. He helped Severus in the mornings, learned the violin in the afternoon, studied Occlumency, or more accurately pre-Occlumency as he wasn't old enough to safely learn actual Occlumency, before dinner, and did his homework after. Slowly his nightmares started to fade, and Draco lost his apprehension.


	21. Birthday Books

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father  
**Author:** Mihra~Attar  
**Chapter:** Birthday Books  
**Chapter rating:** not M  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.  
**A/N:** Yay. And in a timely fashion. Lesse. I's back in school now, so updates on everything are going to be slower, as I have to do homework first or I'll get behind.

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Two weeks after starting classes Harry stood in front of the testing panel: Three teachers, all outstanding musicians, who would judge whether or not he was ready to move to the next class. This was a nerve-wracking experience for many reasons, but the one that stuck with Harry the most was that he was the one to chose when he would be tested. He could ask for his teacher's advice, but he had to make the choice.

Of course, allowances were made for nerves, but still, he didn't want to be considered arrogant. He absently smoothed the front of his vest-robes, robe-length garments (of a shimmering red-approaching-black) with no sleeves that buttoned from throat to navel, and forced his body to relax so as not to break the neck of his violin or the frog of his bow.

"Mister Potter, if you would." The head of the music department gestured for him to begin, and he raised the violin to playing position, bringing his bow to rest centimeters from the strings. He'd already tuned the violin with his teacher's help, and he closed his eyes for a moment before snapping them open and drawing his bow across the d-string for the opening note. Slowly the Alphabet Song, or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star if that's what you heard, took shape, and Harry buried his distaste of the song deep within his mind.

His playing wasn't wonderful. The tempo was off a bit, slower at first and then rushed at the end, and he still had to root for the notes, but each class was only six weeks apart, and he'd been playing between two and four times as much as his classmates on any given day so the outcome was to be expected.

*&*

"Congratulations Harry." Draco slapped him on the back as he stepped out of the testing room, grinning from ear-to-ear, with a small red ribbon tied to the handle of his violin case. It was one of the ways people knew what class each student was in: what ribbons were on their cases. First class had none, second had a single red, through the rainbow until seventh had singles of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Then the next twelve classes ran through the rainbow of colors again. Students who graduated from the highest class received black ribbons, and helped tutor the youngest. Students somewhere between double-red and triple-yellow were the ones typically chosen as mentors for entrants.

All in all it was a simplistically complex system that worked, and Harry let Draco lead him to his new classroom with a goofy smile on his face.

*&*&*&^&*&*&*

At the stroke of midnight that turned July 30th to July 31st Harry was woken by a bundled something falling on him. Anticipation keeping him from deep sleep, he felt it immediately and tumbled from bed with a strangled yell. Less than a minute later Severus ran into the room, candles flaring to life when he didn't see Harry on the bed.

"Harry?" He took a step closer, but Harry only had eyes for the bundle lying on top of his blanket. Severus, being the deductive genius he was, saw what Harry was looking at, and checked it for booby traps before picking it up. As it fell open to reveal a cloak a piece of paper slipped out. Severus saw the paper and picked it up.

"Hmm." He handed it to Harry.

_Harry,_

_If you're reading this two things are true: Your mother and I are both dead, and Dumbledore can no longer be trusted. This is my invisibility cloak. Use it well. _

_I can't say much more here. If you go into the Potter vault and say 'Severus Snape' a trunk will appear. Check it out as soon as you can. _

_I love you my son._

_-Dad_

"Huh." Harry grunted.

"Now I know how he avoided getting caught." Severus shook his head and folded the cloak, putting it in Harry's trunk with his winter gear. "If I find you using it to break school rules I will confiscate it." Harry was just glad he'd let him keep it.

"Okay. G'night Severus."

"Good night Harry."

*&*&*&^&*&*&*

"Harry!" Draco ran over. "Go put Uriel in the basket so we can play Quidditch!" Harry hastened to comply, grinning at Vince, Greg, Kira, Blaise, Draco, Hermione, and an amused Lucius, who was somehow holding a conversation with Hermione without, as far as Harry could tell, insulting her heritage.

With six players -Hermione had refused,- Kira became keeper with Vince as her beater, Blaise, Draco, and Harry were chasers with Greg as their beater, they played with the Quaffle, one Bludger, and no Snitch. Harry learned that he was a decent chaser, but his glasses were a problem. On the other hand, all of them worked up a huge appetite that was well sated by fish and chips, mini-burgers, and soda.

Harry had been shocked when he saw the spread, turning incredulous eyes to Draco, who shrugged nonchalantly.

"What? You told me about your cousin's birthday parties, and I told Father. Besides, 'know your enemy'." Draco turned to the food without another word, and left Harry gaping.

*&*&^&*&*

Presents came after lunch and before cake, except for the restocking of Harry's wardrobe, which had finished a few days previous.

Presents.

A whole pile of presents.

For Harry.

He hadn't actually noticed them, sitting there on the end table, waiting to be opened. Yes, he had gotten gifts at Christmas, but this was his birthday, and all of those were for him?

Harry didn't notice the looks that the others, particularly the adults, were trading. Didn't notice Blaise sidling up to Lucius to engage in a whispered debate. He stared at the pile, and for a minute he dared to hope that the presents were for him, dared to believe it wasn't all a dream.

"Come on Potter, open a present already!" Draco stepped to the table and threw a small-ish box at Harry, who caught it without thinking, a grin he couldn't feel spreading across his face like an outbreak of acne. (Difficult to control, harder to remove).

The box Draco had tossed turned out to be from Ron, and had a modest assortment of candy. Harry put it aside in time to catch a card Draco flicked to him, which was, surprisingly, from Dudley. Even more shocking was the slip of lined paper that fell out of it...the slip of paper addressed to 'Draco's Dad...I think'. Harry handed that piece to Lucius with a frown, and read the card.

_Hey Harry,_

_Happy birthday I guess. Things are really strange here and I just wanted to say I'm glad the scary, poncy man got you out. Dad's been real angry, but you're gone so there isn't much he can do. Just be safe and learn a lot at that freak school of yours, ok?_

_-Dudley_

Harry actually chuckled at Dudley's use of the word 'freak'. Even before he'd gone to Hogwarts it had become a code word between them. 'Freak' between them meant alternately 'wicked', 'cool', and 'amusing', among a few other situational translations.

Harry tucked the card back in its envelope, not letting the others read it, and turned to take the next present from Draco. It was a snake basket shaped parcel wrapped in happy silver paper with green presents that had gold ribbons. It was light, and didn't rattle, though it rasped a bit when Harry removed the paper.

"Great! Thanks Lucius!" Harry grinned up at the tall, blond man, Uriel happily exploring his new home. It was rather special, with a number of features that included a Forget-Me charm, a strong flame-retardant spell, and a 'snitch-catcher' hex that would mark anyone planning on telling unapproved persons about the snake held within.

The box from Gregory held what was quickly becoming the traditional gift between him and Harry, namely school supplies. Five bottles of ink: Two black, one color changing, one green, and one red; three new quills with metal nibs, and enough blank parchment for at least a term.

Next was a book-shaped present from Blaise. When Harry unwrapped it he grinned at her, fingering the embossed BoS on the black cover. It was a Book of Sins, a diary of sorts in which he could write anything that might nag at his conscience later. Beyond that were its organizational properties, as noted by Blaise's own BoS, in which she stored all her 'personal' information on everyone to ever matter in her life and a few people who didn't. He would be using it, yes indeed, and the best part was that most everyone would read it as his 'Book of Shadows', a slightly outdated (according to British Wizarding custom) form of magical journaling.

Draco managed to grab his own gift next, a book entitled _Don't Get Caught: Remote Hexing for the Cultured Teen_. This was followed by _The Slytherin's Guide to Habitually Slytherin Families_ from Marcus Flint via owl-shipping.

The eighth was a box of Zonko's products from Kira, which Harry was about to put away when he noticed something at the bottom. He shuffled the prank supplies around until he could clearly see what lay below, and smiled at the quiet girl. She'd hidden pages and pages of violin music below the more mundane gift, and somehow that made more of an impact on Harry than anything but the violins themselves had, and those had been so sudden that he hadn't been able to process them until much later.

After Harry got himself back under control, not that anyone but Severus and Kira noticed anything was off, he took the next package, and pulled the wrappings off. _Lost Potions_ sat in his hand, a slip of paper serving as a card.

"Severus, what have you done?" Lucius broke the verbal silence that had fallen since Harry opened his first gift. Most children would jump around, yelling 'thank you' and not actually remembering the gifts later. Harry hadn't _said_ 'thank you', but everyone could see it in his eyes when he sought out each present-giver in turn. They knew, though he didn't know they did, that his silence was not out of arrogance, but out of being overwhelmed by unusuall kindness, and it made them very, very angry.

Vincent had also gotten a book: _Pureblood to Muggleborn: A Guide to Western Wizarding Culture_, which Hermione immediately asked to borrow. Finally the last present was set before Harry, the one from Hermione herself, and he opened it with care to reveal a broom servicing kit.

It was as Harry stared at this last piece of proof that his friends truly did care for him that Harry broke. He whirled and tackled Hermione in a hug, pulling Kira, who had been sitting next to Hermione, into the hug as well. A second later Blaise tackled the three of them, Vincent, Gregory, and Draco quickly following.

*&*&*&^&*&*&*

Albus was incensed. The cloak had gone. Of course, he figured it might happen. After all, James had told him to give it to Harry for his 11th Christmas. Yet he'd begun to hope; when the cloak had failed to disappear that December night he'd thought 'maybe'. Well, he'd just have to go get it back. After all, he couldn't have Slytherins sneaking about. It wasn't safe.

Albus knew nothing of the note, nothing of Harry's new location. He set out to Privet Drive with a light heart, knowing he would be able to talk the cloak out of the boy in minutes.


	22. Barmy Birthdays

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father  
**Author:** Mihra~Attar  
**Chapter:** Barmy Birthdays  
**Chapter rating:** K+ I think.  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.  
**A/N: **Pulling. Bloody. Teeth. Not this, my homework. Unfortunately I have to do my homework before I can do this. ~sighs and cries~ I know a lot of you wanted to see Dumbles-dearest's reaction to Potty-face not being at the Dursley's. However, drawing out suspense is -fun-.  
**B/N: 'Drawing out suspense' = author laziness. I'm just saying... **

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Lucius Malfoy watched the Boy-Who-Lived's party with an amused eye. Had he been told even a year ago that his Lord's downfall would become a second son to him he would have laughed, then killed whoever said it. Now he was part of a small group conspiring to get the boy out of Dumbledore's grasp. He had received the file on Harry, and Dumbledore had, foolishly in his opinion, failed to become the boy's magical guardian. In fact, the only reason he'd had so much control over Harry so far was through blatant manipulation of the boy himself.

He looked back at the slip of paper Harry had handed him.

_Dear Mister Scary Man,_

_Dad's gone a little mad. He hit mum once. I'm scared. Hedwig came for this, and I asked her to check up on me and mum. Please, if we need you, will you help? _

_-Dudley_

Lucius didn't know what to make of it. On the one hand muggles were begging him, on the other they were _muggles,_ and on the third they were Harry's relatives, and the boy seemed to care for the two.

His musings were interrupted by Hedwig, who he'd grown fond of, fluttering to his shoulder, another slip of paper in her beak.

_Scary Man,_

_Dad's gone spare. Put mum in the hospital. He got pissed because a wizard-man came to the house looking for Harry. Mum says to tell you his name is Dumbbell Door or something. Dumby got angry too, and he's scary when he's angry, more than you even, and that's hard to do. _

_We're at the hospital by our house. Please come. Mum says to tell you she'll sign Harry to you for adopshun. Something about Dumby and repersentashun. Oh, Hedwig just came. Please, please help us._

_-Dudley_

Lucius stared at the letter, blinked, stared at it more, then handed it to his lovely wife.

"Go." Narcissa said after reading it.

Lucius went.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Narcissa sidled over to Severus, keeping her eye on the pile of children to make sure they didn't notice.

"Do you remember everything you needed when Harry first arrived?" She asked quietly.

"Yes." He replied, keeping his own voice down, though he let a hint of confusion in.

"Is it all safe for a muggle?" Her eyes swept off the children, locking a short ways away so they wouldn't feel a difference. She'd learned long ago that children noticed when they were being watched.

"I believe so." There was a question at the end.

"Do you have everything here?" She turned to him as the children began to stir.

"Yes. I've been keeping a set here since Draco was born, you know that." Severus now looked thoroughly confused.

"Good. We're going to need it for Harry's Aunt." She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. "I'll explain the rest later."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry knew as soon as the emotions in the room changed. How could he not know? He'd lived with Uncle Vernon...with Vernon, no Uncle about him, Vernon, for ten years. He knew when it was okay to sneak away, and when he had to hope he wasn't seen. It was only one adult though, that had changed, and it hadn't been when the puppy pile started, so he ignored it.

Then a second adult was added, and the first left. The tension changed, moved. Then a third adult, and Harry fought his way out of the pile, his friends immediately feeling something was wrong.

Harry stared at Narcissa and Severus. They were standing together, had been whispering.

"What is it?" Harry asked. "Narcissa, what is it?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lucius walked into the muggle hospital, dressed in fashionable business muggle attire, black, of course, with silver fastenings. He located the receptionist's desk and approached.

"I need to find a patient, her name is Petunia Dursley." Lucius spoke clearly, keeping his eyes on the muggle, and putting pressure on her mind, though he knew he couldn't use the imperious curse.

"Of course." She typed the name into the computer. "She is on the Banner Ward on the second floor. Room two-oh-seven. You'll find the elevator and stairs down there." She pointed down a hall.

Lucius nodded, and decided against the 'elevator' and climbed the stairs, walking up one flight and stepping out onto the hall. He'd taken about three steps when a shout and a pudgy body hurling at him from the other end made him freeze.

"Mister scary man, you came!" Dudley wrapped his big arms around Lucius' waist. He was shaking.

"Dudley, I need you to take me to your mother." Lucius worked very hard not to pry the boy off of him. He'd never felt Draco shake like this, but he'd seen Harry doing it, and it made him angry.

Dudley nodded, and reluctantly let got, bracing himself and leading Lucius to the room he'd been sitting outside of.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry looked at the note Narcissa had passed him. She hadn't wanted to, but Severus, of all people, had told her to. His eyes traced the words scratched into the page, and he started to shake.

"Dammit Harry, leave it." Blaise swatted the paper out of his hands and pulled him back towards the pile of presents. "Go grab Uriel, and let's have cake!"

While Blaise distracted Harry, Kira picked up the note and handed it back to Narcissa. Then all six children swarmed Harry, and started forcing him into a distracted state.

There was cake involved. And ice cream. And the walls. Narcissa's screams would forever echo along the hallowed corridors of Malfoy Manor.

"_**NO FOOD FIGHTS IN MY HOUSE YOU CRETINOUS CREATURES OF MALICE AND MAYHEM!**_"

"I applaud your alliteration." Severus' droll tones pierced the bubble of silence that had descended at Narcissa's scream of pure fury.

"_**DOBBY!**_" Narcissa looked at the cringing elf that popped in at her call. "Clean this up while I take these _children_ to the dungeons where they can think about their appalling behavior."

And so the seven wizarding children were herded towards the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, Harry and Hermione looking pensive, Draco looking excited, and Vincent, Gregory, Blaise, and Kira looking like they wanted to take a bath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Thank you love." Lucius gave Narcissa a swift kiss as the children passed out of sight. "Taking them to the indoor pool?"

"Of course, but I'm washing them off before they can swim." Narcissa flitted away to chivvy the children into a faster pace.

"Severus, do you have the potions ready?" Lucius looked at the somber man still standing in the corner, somehow untouched by the flying dessert.

"Of course." He stepped forwards, his eyes cold and a bit distant, then he looked at Mrs. Zabini. "You're sure about this?"

"Positive." She let a smile grace her lips. "I have the money to spare, and Blaise gets on well with the boy. I am, traditionally, neutral, and I have family claim on him by my third husband, who is a second cousin or something of the like. I would have preferred to give the boy a choice, or at least some warning, but this will have to do."

"Then let's go." Lucius held out his hand, the loop of a portkey-bracelet hanging from his fingers. The others took it, and they were away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"This is highly irregular." Minister Fudge groused as he looked over the paperwork. "I must ask, why did _you_ not take the boy Mister Malfoy?"

"Because, Minister, it makes a great deal more sense for me to be his godfather. He will have access to everything I can offer without the political complications of adding a second Malfoy heir." Lucius replied, not voicing the real reasons, which were many and complicated. Though, really, he'd managed to condense and obfuscate them rather well.

"Ah. True, true." The minister looked at Mrs. Zabini, and Mrs. Dursley, "and you are both satisfied with this arrangement?"

"Of course Minister." Both said, almost simultaneously. The 'or we wouldn't have agreed' was left hanging like a neon green flamingo over the Minister's bowler hat.

"Very well then. Harry James Potter is officially Harry James Potter-Zabini. His name and guardianship will be updated in all Ministry records as well as the Hogwarts rolls." The Minister looked around imperiously.

"Thank you Minister." Lucius smiled. "Now, if you don't mind, we need to get back to the young Mister Potter before my wife kills him."

"Pardon?" Minister Fudge took things too seriously.

"Before I left to take care of this little matter he and his friends had turned part of his birthday cake into a projectile weapon." Lucius said smoothly.

"Ah." Somehow Minister Fudge actually understood, and the three adults were quickly escorted from the Ministry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Dudley! Aunt Petunia!" Harry swam to the edge of the pool. He knew how to swim, though not too well, because they taught everyone at his elementary school, but he still preferred flying. "What are you two doing here?"

"Happy birthday Harry." Aunt Petunia said, crouching down to squeeze his shoulder. "We came to give you a present." She smiled, and leaned even further to whisper in his ear. To everyone watching the change was amazing. He went from shocked and a bit happy to ecstatic, and then suddenly to worry.

"But why? What did Uncle Vernon do?"

...

How had the boy known? The adults traded shocked glances.

"Albus Dumbledore visited. Vernon couldn't take it out on you so he took it out on me." Aunt Petunia didn't lie to Harry. He would have called her on it anyways.

"Dudley?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine." Dudley had waddled over. "Can I join you guys?"

"Sure." Harry looked around. Draco, Vincent, Gregory, Kira, and Hermione were bobbing in the deep end, chatting and pretending not to watch. Blaise was clinging to the diving board and chatting with her mum. He waved everyone but Blaise over, and started a round of introductions while Dudley stripped down to his boxers.

"Dudley, you've met Draco." The two boys nodded. "This is Vincent, who can talk to trolls. That's Gregory, my roommate, who gets us all through history. This here," he laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "is Hermione."

"Who should have been a Ravenclaw so being friends wasn't so hard?" Dudley interrupted, grinning, then squawked when his boxers turned into swim trunks.

"Yes, that Hermione." Harry said. "That's Kira, and her roommate Blaise is the one hanging off the diving board."

"Also your new sister." Dudley slipped into the pool. No one commented on his girth, but he saw it, especially compared to Vincent and Gregory, and away from his father he knew he'd be changing it. He'd been teased mercilessly at Smeltings, not that he'd told anyone, not even Harry.

~*~*~*~

The adults watched the eight children play, only pulling them out when it was time for dinner, and a few were tired enough to be snipping. The children didn't notice when they drifted in and out, or they didn't think the children noticed. Harry noticed.

It was strange. Most of the adults had been there, then a house-elf popped in, and everyone but Misters Crabbe, Goyle, and Snape slipped 'unobtrusively' out. And then, of all things, Severus drinks something that turns him into Mr. Granger, and walked out.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"I insist upon seeing Harry."

"No."

"I must ensure his safety, Lucius."

"No."

"I'm sorry Missus Zabini, but you really have no say."

"That's where you're wrong."

"Missus Dursley?"

"Missus Zabini, Mister Malfoy, and myself have decided that Harry would be much safer with a wizarding guardian, blood wards or no. Therefore I have approved the official adoption of Harry by Missus Zabini. The paperwork has been submitted, and signed with a bloody quill, that cut open my hand no less."

"I...see."

"You are not welcome in my house Dumbledore."

"Nor will _I_ permit you to speak with my son, at any point, outside my presence."

"In that ca..."

"Is everything alright?"

"Doctor Granger? A...nother... muggle in Malfoy Manor?"

"Lucius?"

"Yes Mister Granger, everything is under control."

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?"

"Harry's birthday party of course."

There was a stunned silence following Narcissa's announcement in which Dumbledore tried to find a way out of the New Order Of Things, and everyone else tried not to crack up.

"Very well. Give him my best wishes. We will discuss this later, Mister Malfoy."

They watched Dumbledore leave, waiting until he had apparated away before turning. Lucius had a malicious grin plastered on his face. Petunia was smirking. Mrs. Zabini looked angry, and 'Doctor Granger' looked put out.

"He tried to use legillimency on me." Severus groused.

"What?" Mrs. Zabini practically shrieked.

"Relax. He didn't get anything I didn't want him to." Severus shrugged. "Now if you will excuse me I'm going to go hide until I change back." With that he stalked off, muggle clothing changing back to his billowing black robes with a swish of his wand.

"'Risa, what's wrong?" Lucius looked at Mrs. Zabini, letting his malice cool to concern.

"I do not trust him. He placed Harry with wizard-hating muggles, and left him with no extra supervision. He is the reason Harry's never had a birthday party before. He's the reason Harry almost died, and he's the reason Missus Dursley almost died. To top it off he has the audacity to use legillimency on a presumed muggle to gain information about Harry. I don't want him anywhere near Harry, especially not alone." Mrs. Zabini's voice started soft, and slowly got louder until the last three words, when she realized she was almost yelling, and forced herself to calm down.

"Then tomorrow when you go with Severus to get the boy's stuff the four of you will sit down and discuss how to proceed." Lucius smiled, "and yes, I am including Blaise in that four. She's in his year, and has a very good excuse for keeping a close eye on him."

"Alright." Mrs. Zabini took a deep breath, and nodded, closing her eyes for a long moment.

"Well," Narcissa clapped her hands, "now that we're not going to scare the children with our stresses let's get back before they notice we're gone."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The day ended with all eight children curled up on eight conjured mattresses on the floor of an otherwise empty room, wrapped in sheets and blankets, surrounded by pillows. No one, not even Dudley, commented when Gregory curled up around Harry, and all were soon very, very unconscious.


	23. Boy Cooties

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father  
**Author:** Mihra~Attar  
**Chapter: **Boy Cooties  
**Chapter rating: **K+  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.  
**A/N: **A few notes at the bottom too. Heh. I seem to be doing a bit better this time around on actually writing. It's a nice change. Let's see what imadoodlenoodle says about it though, before I go getting all excited. ...Oh, and I'm reading Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerous Balls by NGX's Girl X. It's rather...amusing. If I slip up and put flamboyantly gay wording in just enjoy it.  
**B/N: You offered a cherry on top for a review. You haven't got the hang of this yet, have you? You have to offer them naked people. It's the only way. (Not random naked people, naked characters. Like Lucius. Or someone else. There are plenty of other characters that could be naked-ified. -- Real word). **

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Morning dawned bright and cheery, and Harry woke to the sun slashing across Draco's face, and Gregory's arms around him. He was warm, comfortable, and very aware of the adult eyes in the room, gazing across the somnolent forms of children, heavy with a confusion of emotions. He was, of course, immediately fully awake, his eyes shooting to Lucius, who was standing in the door, but Lucius wasn't looking at him at all. This confused Harry's still sleep-fogged brain until he followed the man's gaze to Draco, who had yet to be woken by the sun slowly creeping towards his eyes, and whose arm was thrown across Hermione's shoulder.

Harry couldn't help it. He started to snicker. This did two things; it woke Gregory, and it pulled Lucius' attention away from his own son and to his new godson. The arched eyebrow that followed Lucius' change in attention, and Harry started outright giggling, clutching his stomach with mirth. This, of course, woke everyone else.

"Harry? Wasso funny?" Draco asked groggily, cracking his eyes open but not moving otherwise.

"Murfle?" Hermione added, rolling over...towards Draco...who automatically shifted to keep his arm around her.

Harry laughed harder, Blaise joining in as she caught on. Draco and Hermione looked at each other, shrugged, looked back at Harry, then froze. They slowly, oh so slowly, looked at each other again.

"AHH!!!" Draco launched himself away from Hermione.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" Hermione launched herself away from Draco.

"Muggle cooties!" They'd broken Draco of calling Hermione a Mudblood towards the end of the first school year.

"Boy cooties!" Both started brushing at their clothes frantically as Severus, Narcissa, Mrs. Zabini, and the elders Crabbe and Goyle burst in, wands drawn.

It took a while for everyone to calm down, but the sniggers, giggles, and outright laughs slowed, Draco and Hermione got themselves under control, and everyone started to settle down.

"Breakfast then?" Lucius asked the eventual awkward silence.

"Right. Children, go get dressed. Shoo." Narcissa chased them all out, the boys going to Draco's room, the girls to Harry's to change into day clothes, though Harry did have to nip into his room to grab the clothes he wanted to wear. Which, of course, meant he found out about Narcissa's birthday present to him: an entire wardrobe restock, half summer weight, half winter weight. It was all wizarding clothing, but surprisingly was of many and varied colors, including a pair of brilliantly pink pants that were rather obviously her way of throwing a hissy fit.

"Harry, you're not." Hermione groaned as Harry threw the pants over his arm and ran out of the room, grinning madly.

Of course Narcissa would get the last laugh when, halfway through the after-breakfast game of jinx-tag (really, what pureblood cares about not being allowed to use magic outside of school) the brilliantly pink pants turned into a Slytherin green kilt with silver snakes decorating the hem. (Not that Harry had any idea that kilts were different from skirts.)

Then it was time to go, Harry, Blaise, Mrs. Zabini, and Severus all travelling to Spinner's End where they sat down and had a serious discussion about Albus Dumbledore, Legilimency, and the safety of Harry and his belongings. Finally they came up with a list of rules. Not guidelines. Rules.

Harry would never be alone outside of the Slytherin dorms.

Someone, preferably two some ones, would always know where Harry was, even when he was doing something against the rules, and when he expected to get back.

Harry would never be alone with Albus Dumbledore, nor tell him anything without having it pried from him with a magical crowbar, word-by-word.

Harry would not meet Dumbledore's eyes.

Harry would tell Professor Snape if Dumbledore ever asked to speak with him in his office, or anywhere else alone.

Every magical student who had been present at Harry's birthday party would be made aware of these rules and help Harry follow them.

Harry was perfectly fine with these rules. What he wasn't fine with was leaving Spinner's End, despite having known he would have to for a while. He and Severus went upstairs to pack and have a pseudo-father-son conversation about the coming separation. Harry knew he was being a baby, really, he was 12, but still, Severus was the first adult who'd cared and shown it.

"I don't want to go." Harry held a shirt, one of many that he was moving, one-by-one, from the dresser to his trunk, when he finally spoke.

"I know." Severus kept methodically stowing Harry's books.

"I can't stay here because you need to go places I can't, and you'll be gone for days at a time." Harry moved another shirt.

"Also because Missus Zabini has adopted you, and the Ministry will be checking to make sure everything is going well." Severus added.

"I'm scared." Harry stopped, and looked straight at Severus.

"I know." Severus met his gaze, and Harry dropped the shirt he was holding, tackled Severus and held onto him, not caring that he was being weak and childish, that no self-respecting twelve-year-old would cling to his _teacher_. But then he felt Severus' arms wrap around him, and he stopped caring that he was acting like a child.

~*~

When Severus and Harry returned to the living room Blaise and Mrs. Zabini were still sitting. It didn't _look_ like they'd moved at all, though the next words out of Mrs. Zabini's mouth gave lie to that impression.

"We went back to Malfoy Manor to pick this up." She held up a slim bracelet, a chain with a single, small, red gem on the far side from the clasp, bound by a ring of metal so that it poked out both sides. "It's a portkey directly to the Manor. To activate it pinch the gem between your thumb and ring finger on either side of the band, and say 'tadaima'."

"Tadaiyma?" Harry asked, completely butchering it.

"Ta-da-i-ma." Blaise enunciated each syllable.

"Tadaima." Harry said again, butchering it a bit less.

"Better." Blaise grumbled.

"Is there any particular reason you used Japanese for the activation phrase?" Severus asked. Harry's head snapped around to stare at him.

"Because I visited Japan in my youth and have a passing familiarity with the language?" Mrs. Zabini said with a smirk. "Also because it's unlikely that anyone will speak Japanese in Hogwarts, and less likely that they'll do so while holding the bracelet properly."

"Fine." Severus shrugged. "Ready?" The question was spoken to Mrs. Zabini, but directed at Harry.

"I guess so." Harry looked at Severus uncertainly.

"Good, because we need to get you unpacked so the both of you can practice." Mrs. Zabini said with a smile that held as much friendly malice as it did amusement.

After all, what proper adult could pass up the opportunity to enforce homework and practice?

~*~*~*~*~

Harry sat on his bed. His bed? His bed! He sat on his bed, legs tucked under him, transfiguration text open in his lap. His room was unpacked, clothes away in the closet, books on the proper shelves, desk stocked with writing supplies. His musical paraphernalia sat in a corner, freshly packed away from his practice session. It was Blaise's turn, and he could clearly hear her flute, notes dancing across his eardrums. It was a pleasant counterpoint to the chore of finishing his summer work.

"Harry?" Mrs. Zabini's voice from the door made Harry start.

"Missus Zabini." He put his book away, carefully marking his place with a scrap of parchment, then turned his attention fully towards her.

"May I come in?" She stayed in the doorway, waiting for his response.

"Of course." He gestured towards the desk chair, and watched as she paced cat-like across the space to settle with infinite grace on the curved wood of the seat.

"Harry, I want you to tell me honestly, are you fine with this?" Mrs. Zabini asked, her eyes locked to his.

Harry knew what she was asking, and he wasn't going to make her say it.

"I feel bad about it. You were forced to take me because of the Headmaster and Vernon." Harry said calmly, very little emotion in his voice.

"No, Harry." Mrs. Zabini said, voice and eyes telling him she was speaking nothing but the truth. She was good at that. "Mister Malfoy and I have been talking about this since the beginning of the summer holidays. We wanted to give you a choice, but we weren't forced. It's just like the violin. I want you to live here. I am proud to call you my son."

Somehow the words made it through. Harry didn't know how or why, but suddenly he understood. The violin, the adoption, it was because he was a good person, a person worthy of what he'd been given. He wasn't a stupid, bumbling, idiotic, freakish thing. He was a person. A person people cared for.

He nodded slowly, and Mrs. Zabini smiled.

"Good." She rose. "We'll be going to Diagon Alley via side-along Apparation with the Malfoys, Crabbes, Goyles, Whites, and Grangers once you all get your letters." With that she flowed out, and Harry returned to his text.

~*~*~A/N~*~*~

Tadaima: I am home.

"Harry sat on his bed. His bed? His bed!" This is a reference to my homework. They sneak in on occasion. Deal with it.

What was that last bit about? Hmm. Who knows.

Review? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?

~Sighs~

Not a cherry? How about a naked Lucius? Is that better?

Yes. Reviewers will get a naked Lucius.


	24. Memory Lane

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father

**Author: **Mihra~Attar

**Chapter: **Memory Lane

**Chapter Rating: **M for discussion of child abuse, and mild language

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.

**A/N: **This chapter is a bit different. It's purpose is to take care of a major problem of Sevvie's. We'll see how it goes. I would also like to add that this is not going the way I had initially planned, which is about par for the course as far as my plans go. I like where it's going though, so I'm not going to change it. I will, however, warn you now: I do not like Sirius Black. I find him to be a childish, arrogant, arse who was willing to murder a fellow student at the ripe age of 16 or so. I don't condone Snape's childish behavior either, but I understand it where it applies to Black. However, unless Black can find a way to redeem himself he may find that his one and only godson repudiates him for his prejudices.

**B/N: Obsession with the word 'his' much? Certainly different from the norm. Remember, 'i' before 'e' except after 'c'. This is true even with Magic words. It's good to know the Wizarding world knows these things. It's different, this chapter.**

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Severus Snape rested on _his_ couch, in front of _his_ fire, _his_ mug of tea cradled gently in _his_ hands, _his_ eyes locked on the shallow stone basin that sat innocently on _his_ sitting room table. Next to the basin, on _his_ table, sat three stoppered phials labeled with the numbers one through three. Cradled comfortably in _his_ armchair, sat an ever-patient Poppy Pomfrey.

_Nobody can do this for you, Severus. With you, yes, but not for you. _

Her words, spoken almost two hours ago, sang in his head. He had contacted her the week he'd brought Harry home, after noticing himself flinching occasionally when Harry acted unexpectedly like James. His description of the problem sent her into a tisking fit, but she wasn't a certified, if underused and under-appreciated, mind-healer for nothing. She collected a number of memories from him, then disappeared with instructions to contact her when he'd gotten Harry tucked away somewhere else for a weekend.

Harry, not wanting to spend more than a single night away from Spinner's End, had been the perfect excuse to avoid Poppy's increasingly irate owls…until now.

Possessed of a sudden need to act, Severus lunged forwards and unstoppered the bottle with the number '3' on it. He didn't want to go through all of them, and he knew the first two were simple warm-ups, ways to ease him into the final jaunt through memory lane.

He dumped the contents into the basin, and looked back at Poppy, noting in the back of his mind that she hadn't even flinched.

"I can heal your body without your assistance or consent, but not your heart. I'm glad you now have a reason to do this." She rose to her feet, and Severus distinctly recalled all those times in the Hospital Wing, broken bones and bruises. How she'd healed him but not stifled him, let him know she was there, but not pushed him further than he was comfortable with.

Together they leaned into the Pensieve.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_They were in the hospital wing. Lupin was there, recovering from a transformation. Then Black and Potter walked in._

"_Hey mate, how are you?" Black loudly proclaimed. Lupin...glared._

"_Madam Pomfrey told me what you did." Lupin's voice was heavy with the wolf. "Do you really want me dead that much? I know you want Snape dead, but did you stop to think about the fact that the Ministry WOULD HAVE EXECUTED ME ON THE SPOT?!"_

_Black backed away from the enraged werewolf._

"_It was just a joke Moony." He sounded shocked._

"_No. It wasn't. It was stupid." Lupin turned away. "Leave. We'll talk later."_

_It was Poppy's memory, Severus realized, as he stared in shock at the closing doors._

_Lupin turned to where Poppy was hiding behind her office door, eavesdropping._

"_I wish I could get angry at him for trying to kill Snape, but he wouldn't understand." The abject misery in his voice was startling. "I wish I could make them stop, but I'm afraid. They know what I am, and if I make them too angry they might decide that I'm dark too and find a way to kill me." He seemed to collapse into his memories. "At first I was happy to have friends, and afraid to loose them, but now? Seeing Sirius? I'm afraid that if I stop being friends with him he'll label me dark and kill me like he tried to Severus."_

The memory faded away.

"Neither Sirius, nor James, nor Albus can admit that their behavior is the reason you turned to your housemates, and then to the Dark Lord." Poppy said softly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_He was on the hill, sprawled before Dumbledore, broken._

"_Hide them all then. Keep her – them - safe."_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_It was the Welcoming Feast, and they were standing behind memory-Poppy. Severus looked around, and saw himself at the other end of the head table. He walked the length, and settled where he could see his own face as the first-years entered. Memory-Severus' eyes landed on one small body out of the forty walking between the student tables; a form with wild hair and moon glasses. He saw his anger, and remembered his thoughts. _

_**So like his father. Gryffindor no doubt. Just like James-Bloody-Potter. Strutting around. Probably messes his hair up on purpose. Dumbledore will let him get away with murder, no doubt about it. Well **__I__** won't. I'll make sure whatever spoiling his **__relatives__** did is **__un__**-done. Probably never done a chore in his life. I'll have him scrubbing cauldrons until his fingers bleed.**_

_It went on like that through the Sorting, and then the hat had the audacity to put the boy in Slytherin. Severus wasn't surprised at what he saw on his memory-self's face, but it saddened him. Shock, horror, and hatred were plain to read for an instant. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_How had he not seen the careful way the boy moved? Even under his robes the signs were there. Severus watched as he kept Harry behind that first night, and he actually started shaking with anger. He was sitting there, chewing the boy out (calmly and rather politely) about his __**dead father**__ of all people, and not noticing the careful way the boy sat. _

_He knew what he would see next, remembered it clearly. How the boy wasn't unconscious with pain was what he didn't know. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_Storming into the Potter-Goyle room, furious that the brat was already causing him problems with his ridiculously spoiled behavior (even __**Malfoys**__ knew not to disrupt the head-of-house on the first night), to find the boy curled in a corner, legs pulled to his chest, shaking. He knelt beside the boy, not bothering to hide irritation as he tilted his chin. One look into the child's eyes and the irritation was gone. Something was very, very wrong. Potter couldn't see him, his eyes glassy, the scent of terror so strong it was overwhelming. _

_Severus got the boy up and sent his roommate to bed. He tried to walk the boy to the Hospital Wing, but they'd barely made it down the hall when the child flipped again, pulled away to cringe against the wall, his body twitching as though he were being struck then and there. He'd had no choice at that point. No matter how much he hated James Potter, Harry Potter had been abused, and he would not let it continue. _

_The rest of the walk to the Hospital Wing was painful to watch, and Severus remembered the mental struggle he'd had with himself the entire way, but what waited at the end of that walk was worse. He watched as he helped Poppy treat every bruise and open, bloody welt on Potter's body, and it was torture. Seeing the raw flesh that must have been agony seated or standing was too much, and Severus reached blindly for something to hold. Poppy saw this, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly and not letting go. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_They were back in the Great Hall, standing behind the Head table, and the doors opened to reveal Potter, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in all their non-uniform glory. They posed, waited, and strode with pureblood arrogance to the Slytherin table. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_They were in the Great Hall, standing behind the Head table, and the doors opened to reveal Potter and Black, posing and prancing in their Gryffindor uniforms all the way to the Gryffindor table. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~ _

_The Great Hall was gone, but Potter and Black remained, posing and prancing as though they still had their audience, but inscribing an invisible circle on the not-floor-floor. Malfoy, Potter, Crabbe, and Goyle strode into view to pose and strut at the point of the circle farthest from Potter and Black. _

Snape realized what he was supposed to do, and he watched the two parties as they raised his hackles. As he watched their bodies slowly started talking to him.

'_Look at us, we're just that good, and you should all worship us.' Black and Potter screamed._

_'Look at me, I just performed a miracle, and now Slytherin can be proud of its newest: Harry Potter. And I helped him with his wardrobe, and I'm helping him act confident.' Screamed Draco Malfoy._

'_Look at Draco, but don't touch him...and not Harry either.' Screamed Vincent Crabbe. _

'_Look at me, and remember what you see because if you hurt Harry I will kill you.' Screamed Gregory Goyle. _

'_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit why am I doing this, please let this be over, what if I mess up, what if everyone hates me, what if Draco rejects me? Please, please don't look at me, but do, because you're looking at me like I'm something good and not something bad, stupid, freak, and I'm so confused, and would someone please explain? I guess I just have to trust Draco, and let him show me off, and I should act just like he is right now because he really wants me to show off, and I guess that's okay because it's him, and he's been nice, and oh, we're supposed to be moving, and this is okay because we'll be sitting soon and people can stop staring. I'm so out of my depth.' Said Harry Potter, very, very quietly. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_They were standing in what should have been a deserted hall, except it wasn't because there was a Hufflepuff first-year sitting on the floor, crying, a torn book bag in her hands. _

_There was a flash of a face, Minerva's he would guess, explaining where the memory came from, around the far corner, but it ducked out of sight as Harry Potter walked around the near corner. He immediately ran to help the Hufflepuff, picking up her things and hugging her awkwardly. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~ _

_They were standing in what should have been a deserted hall, except it wasn't...because Black and Potter were tormenting a fellow first-year. A Slytherin. Severus Snape. _

_No one came to help him._

_Even after Potter and Black were gone. _

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~ _

They watched Harry's first year. Memories of moments caught by professors, and even a few from older students. For every scene of Harry there was another of Potter and Black, or Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin. Each time the Pensieve didn't move on until Severus had found the differences between the scenes. Severus, for his part, didn't need Poppy's help with any of them. The way she'd designed the memory-course was enough to ensure he got her point.

Severus did not speak for an hour after the Pensieve released him. Poppy let him have his silence, sitting with perfect patience on the chair she'd vacated to accompany him.

"Thank you." He said at length, his eyes never leaving the long, thin fingers they'd been locked upon.

"Would you like me to stay the night?" Was the unexpected response.

"I believe that might be a good idea." Severus looked up at her, at once broken and healing.

"Oh, good." She pulled a pebble out of her pocket and restored it to the overnight bag it actually was.

Severus blinked, then nodded. She knew him well. Better, in fact, than he knew himself.

"Of course I do."

"I said that out loud?"

"Mmhmm."

**Different, no? **

**Reviews? Naked Lucius worked, so how about [censored] **

**~Runs for the nuclear bunker~ **

**Alright, alright. I've taken it down, happy now? No more [censored] to worry about. You can now go about your regularly scheduled review.**


	25. Diagon Alley

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father  
**Author: **Mihra~Attar  
**Chapter: **Diagon Alley  
**Chapter Rating:**  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.  
**A/N:**  
**B/N: I loved Diagon Alley, the end part.**

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Harry stood at the sink, elbow deep in soapy water, humming to himself as he scrubbed the dishes. He'd noticed first at Spinner's End and now at home. Home? He had a Home! And now at home, he found that he liked doing dishes. Heck, he enjoyed scrubbing cauldrons…though he was going to keep that fact away from Severus, at least for a while. He was content, happy even. Then his peaceful little world was shattered.

"Blaise Zabini! Why are you just sitting there doing nothing?" Mrs. Zabini sounded angry. Instinctively Harry flinched, whirling to face her.

"I'm sorry." He said unthinkingly, even as he took in the strangely frozen tableau in front of him. Mrs. Zabini had been glaring at her daughter before he'd spoken, and Blaise was sitting back in one of the kitchen chairs with a _very_ satisfied smirk on her face.

"Harry, you've done enough dear. Please go to your room and rewrite your Transfigurations essay. I've finished checking it." Mrs. Zabini said, a calm expression on her face. "Blaise, finish the dishes."

Blaise jumped up from the chair, and before Harry knew what was happening she had pushed him out of the kitchen, and taken his place at the sink. Confused, worried, and altogether not willing to argue with Mrs. Zabini after the anger he'd heard in her voice, Harry hiked up to his room and sat down at his desk to start working.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Blaise grinned when her mother walked in and saw her lounging while Harry did the dishes. Blaise didn't like chores, and made no secret of the fact, but she always did what she was assigned. Her mother knew this, but anyone could change when a new family member was added. Blaise hadn't, of course, but she could pretend.

"Do you see nothing wrong with Harry doing the dishes while you do nothing?" Her mother asked, her voice like sharpened ice. Blaise noticed the silencing spell that popped up, and grinned to herself.

"Of course I do," Blaise turned the water off, and swiveled to face her mother, "but Harry doesn't." She watched her mother's face, waiting for the anger to resolve into something else. She didn't have to wait long.

"You set that up."

"Yes."

"He said 'I'm sorry' when I yelled at you."

"Yes."

"He doesn't expect rules and chores to be enforced unilaterally."

"Correct."

"Dammit!" Her mother's hand went through the wall and she allowed a slight wince to escape from her mask.

"I tend to agree. Care to fix the wall? And your hand?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry and Blaise both woke the next morning to envelopes hitting them in the head. This would have been a bit more irritating had they not been Hogwarts envelopes.

Floo calls were made. Children excused from summer programs, and side-along apparition arranged. By noon Harry, Blaise, Draco, Vincent, Gregory, Kira, and Hermione were standing in the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"Lockhart?" Draco complained, looking down at his book list in horror. "Really?"

"Pardon?" Lucius ripped the parchment from his hands. "Right. First stop: Flourish and Blotts."

Harry traded glances with the other kids in their group as they walked towards the store. There were seven kids, and eleven adults, and Lucius wanted to drag them all to Flourish and Blotts? Then they got there, and realized they probably wouldn't even be noticed.

They wound their way through the store, running into the Weasleys on their way to the Defense section. Harry stopped to nod at Fred and George, and thought of something. He'd noticed the price on _Magical Me_, and figured the 7 or so other Lockhart books on the school list were as expensive.

"Hey Fred, George." He hissed, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah?" They were a tad suspicious, but not much. After all, they'd played Quidditch against him and all that jazz.

"You can probably share textbooks, you know." He grinned as their expressions changed to bewilderment and then to greater cheer.

"You know, I think we can." Fred said.

"Thanks Harry." George added. There was a pause, as though the conversation around them stilled.

"It _can't_ be! It's _Harry Potter_." Lockhart strode around the table he had just about to sit at. Harry hadn't even noticed him, but it was definitely the man on the cover of the books. Harry shot a glance at Lucius as Lockhart tried to grab him. He pulled away, then grinned, realizing something.

"My name's not Potter." He walked around Lockhart and rejoined his companions.

When they left Flourish and Blotts a half an hour later, complete with three sets of Lockhart books, and three sets of ten 'supplemental' books (one set for Hermione, two sets for the Slytherins), the adults decided they needed to split up to cover everything that needed to be done. It was because of that decision that Harry and Hermione ended up with Mrs. Zabini and Dr. Granger, the male one, at Ricardo's Optometry office.

"Ah. Missus Zabini. You are as radiant as ever. More beautiful than the Earth itself, you light up my heart more than the sun ever could!" Ricardo bowed and slobbered over Mrs. Zabini's hand, making Harry gag and Hermione giggle. "Pray tell my lady, what may I do for you today?"

"The boy needs new glasses, the girl needs her eyes checked." Mrs. Zabini said, her tone bored, her eyes amused.

"What you desire, I grant! I am your to command!" Harry and Hermione found themselves seated side-by-side, strange contraptions over their eyes, and Ricardo practically having a seizure when he looked at what must have been a display over Harry's head.

"Oh my heavens! Missus Zabini! When was the last time this boy had an eye exam? This cannot be right, not from you!" Ricardo seemed to be having some sort of panic attack.

"I adopted him less than a month ago, Ricardo, now do your job." Mrs. Zabini sounded a tad irritated, a mite tetchy.

Less than an hour later Harry was in possession of a pair of oval glasses, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, and, amazingly, a pair of magical contacts designed for Quidditch players. Hermione had two pairs of oval glasses, and was exclaiming about how she could read the sign for Eyelope's from half a block away. (It turned out she needed a mild correction for distance vision, the bookworm.)

"Professor Snape!" Harry caught sight of Severus about to step into the apothecary, and ran forward.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione ran after him.

"Professor Snape?" Blaise and Kira were, apparently, in the apothecary.

"Can you not yell so loud? Hi Professor!" Draco shouted from Madame Malkin's. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache.

Harry traded glances with Blaise, and both smirked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So they mobbed you in Diagon Alley with angelic smiles on their faces?" Lucius smirked, idly swirling the wine in his glass.

"Yes. My reputation is ruined!" Severus groaned, knocking back the last sip from his own glass.

"How awful." The sarcasm in Lucius' voice was blatant and held an edge of wry amusement.

"What did I do to them?" Severus asked, looking over at his old friend. "Why do they torture me so?"

Lucius couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

"Severus?" That was…Harry's voice?

"Uncle Severus?" And…Draco?

The two boys were hiding behind the study door, peeking around it with wide eyes. Severus' eyebrows started to inch towards his hairline.

"Would it help if we said we were sorry?" Draco asked, taking the lead.

"Would you mean it?" Severus asked, trying not to smile.

They nodded, both looking rather ashamed.

"Then it would help." Severus said sagely.

"We're sorry. We'll try not to ruin your reputation any more." Both said, simultaneously, as though they'd practiced…a lot.

Severus opened his arms. "Apology accepted." They ran forward to hug him, then ran out to rejoin the others…wherever they were.

Lucius managed to put up a silencing spell before both adults started laughing out loud.


	26. Returning

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father

**Author: **Mihra~Attar

**Chapter: **Returning

**Chapter Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.

**A/N: **Bit longer of a wait. Sorry about that. I had a plot-bunny and his name is Blood for Children. Unfortunately he took a lot of attention. I do have an idea of what's coming next here though, so hopefully I'll get the next chapter in soon.

Alright. As it stands I haven't heard back from my beta, so this is going up without. All mistakes are, therefore, most definitely mine.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Rise and shine sleepyheads!" Mrs. Zabini called through the house on the morning of the first of September…at eight, on the morning of the first of September…when she'd made sure Harry and Blaise were both packed the night before.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Blaise called from her room, and Harry could hear her stumbling around. He, of course, was still well used to being rousted from bed whether he was ready to wake up or not, and didn't bother grumbling. A year may have made some difference, but ten of eleven formative years is a lot of conditioning to overcome.

"Harry?" Mrs. Zabini poked her head through the door, then immediately retracted it. "Harry, make some noise in the mornings so I know you're alive, alright?" She grumbled from the hall, having just caught him buck naked.

"Yes Missus Zabini." Harry replied.

"Harry, what will it take to get you to call me something less formal? I don't expect you to call me mother, but, perhaps Arisandra or Risa?" Mrs. Zabini said. She'd tried to get him to call her by her first name once she adopted him, but every time she surprised him or told him to do something he reverted to formal address.

"Yes ma'am." Harry whispered, biting his lip. He knew she was probably getting annoyed with him, but he didn't want to make her angry by being too informal, and even if she told him to, well, it was better to err on the side of caution.

"Alright. Up, dressed, packed, and food." She stepped away from the door, and he heard her walking down the stairs.

"Hey Harry!" Blaise poked her head in as soon as her mother was gone. "Think you've had enough practice?"

He grinned and nodded, pulling his violin from the corner. He'd thrown on a casual outfit of black and dark red, and she was wearing dark blue pants with a baby-purple shirt that made her dark skin stand out. Her flute was held gently in her hands.

Harry quickly tuned his violin, carefully and quietly checking each note. He then tightened and rosined his bow before nodding to Blaise.

The pair crept downstairs, careful to jump the three intentionally squeaky steps. They tiptoed into the living room, and lifted their instruments.

"Kids!" Mrs. Zabini yelled up the stairs. "Breakfast!"

Harry met Blaise's eyes, and watched her count a beat for him. At her silent signal he drew his bow across the G-string. The note resonated through the house, and he watched the door even as he started bowing the next note.

Blaise and Harry had spent a good week working with their teachers, after camp and during breaks, to write a duet. Harry played slow, simple notes, and Blaise twined a complimentary melody around his much simpler tune.

Harry started the song, and Blaise came in perfectly. As his notes followed arpeggios and scales hers danced in whispers that spiraled into a crescendo before fading to breaths of tone.

When they were done both bowed, and Harry stepped forwards.

"Missus Zabini, we give our formal thanks for your support and care. We leave for school today, and you have our word that your gifts will not go to waste."

Mrs. Zabini clasped her hands before her, not letting signs of emotion though save the smile that graced her lips and the twinkle in her eyes.

"Thank you." Was all she said, but it held much feeling.

Both ran upstairs to put their instruments away, then rejoined her in the dining room for one last family meal before school started.

~*~*~*~

Fitting seven people in a six-person compartment was…amusing. Five minutes into the ride Harry got irritated. Ten minutes in he'd convinced a seventh-year to transfigure the seats into mattresses, and the group settled down to a serious discussion on the next year at Hogwarts.

A half an hour in the Weasley Twins poked their heads in.

"Potter, can we borrow you?" They asked. Harry laid his hand on Gregory's arm as he shot a glare at Draco, quelling both their defensive impulses.

"Blaise." Harry gestured for his now-sister to accompany him. "If you don't mind." The question was posed to her and the twins alike.

The Twins traded glances, then shrugged. Blaise simply rose and paced carefully to his side.

Outside the compartment the Twins turned to sweep Harry with an appraising look.

"We would like to thank you for the Lockheart suggestion." George took the lead.

"That was an honorable action." Fred added. For once both of them were completely serious.

"It was also a gesture of friendship." Harry said, rather bluntly, "or, at least of fellowship." He took a moment to look at both of them, his eyes taking in both hesitation and conditional acceptance in their body language.

"You understand if we have to think on this?" Fred asked after a moment.

"Of course." Harry replied. "If you cannot be seen with Slytherins feel free to send an owl." He looked to Blaise, who had been silent through the exchange. She shrugged, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth, and walked back to their compartment.

"A show of trust?" George asked.

"Yes." Harry said simply.

"Will you trust us to contact you when we've decided?" Fred queried.

"Yes." Harry said again.

"Then we'll be on our way." George held out a hand. Harry shook it, then Fred's, and the three parted.

Harry quickly slid back into the compartment, and looked at his sprawled friends.

"I want everyone to lay off Fred and George, Hermione you might want to talk to them." He said calmly, settling back into his place propped against Gregory.

"And what if we don't want to?" Draco challenged, obviously irked at being ordered to do something.

"Then I will let them into the Common Room to prank you." Harry said, his face completely blank, staring unblinkingly into Draco's eyes.

There was a moment of stupidly tense silence.

"Touché." Draco settled back and Harry let his mask fall away to reveal a grin.

"Glad we're agreed." Harry closed his eyes, slipping into a light doze.

~*~*~*~

The rest of the ride was enjoyed with a liberal application of sugar, chatter, and teasing. Nothing got out of hand, and everyone left the Express laughing, to pile into two carriages and be towed to the castle, where Hermione left the group for the Gryffindor table and the Slytherins bunched in the 'second year' section of their table.

The new students were settled in, and the Sorting progressed until only one student was left.

"Weasley, Ginevra." The shaking redhead stepped forwards, and sat, letting the Hat fall over her eyes. It did not scream out immediately, and tensions started to rise. Finally, the brim split.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ginevra rose, refusing to look at the Gryffindor table, and walked to her silent house, back straight and proud.

"Huh." Blaise grunted. Draco just snorted, and the entire Hall found out why a second later when a scream split the air.

"NO!" Ron Weasley stood, staring at his sister. "MY SISTER IS NOT IN SLYTHERIN! My sister is not a slimy snake! There's no way! The Hat was tampered with!" He tried to storm towards Dumbledore, and was hauled forcibly to the floor by the Twins, a discreet silencing charm thrown over him by…someone. Only then could the world start moving again.

In due course the feast was consumed, and the time for announcements at hand. Dumbledore stood, opened his mouth, and began speaking to his captive audience.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts. To keep an old man's wheezing and waffling short; the Forbidden Forest is forbidden, check on Mister Fliche's door for this year's list of banned items, remember that there is no magic in the halls between classes, and this year's Defense Professor is Mister Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Bee up his…" Blaise trailed her whisper off, hiding the entire comment behind the rabid applause for the blond menace at the Head table.

"I'm pretty sure it's a Weasley, actually." Draco said, nose in the air.

"As am I," Harry said, "come on, we're going to play guard." He didn't give the others a chance to object before weaving his way towards the first years even as the rest of the Hall started to empty.


	27. Fallout

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father

**Author: **Mihra~Attar

**Chapter: **Fallout

**Chapter Rating:** K+…or whatever

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.

**A/N: **Hello all, and many apologies for the rather extended hiatus. My muses decided to leave me hanging well into the new term, much to my dismay. It has gotten to the point where not even scolding them helps, and I am simply going to have to take over their stories until they get either jealous or angry that I'm mangling their plotlines and take over again.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Last time on The Enemy of My Father:

"_Weasley, Ginevra." The shaking redhead stepped forwards, and sat, letting the Hat fall over her eyes. It did not scream out immediately, and tensions started to rise. Finally, the brim split. _

"_SLYTHERIN!" _

_Ginevra rose, refusing to look at the Gryffindor table, and walked to her silent house, back straight and proud_

"_NO!" Ron Weasley stood, staring at his sister. "MY SISTER IS NOT IN SLYTHERIN! My sister is not a slimy snake! There's no way! The Hat was tampered with!" He tried to storm towards Dumbledore, and was hauled forcibly to the floor by the Twins, a discreet silencing charm thrown over him by…someone. Only then could the world start moving again. _

_In due course the feast was consumed, and the time for announcements at hand. Dumbledore stood, opened his mouth, and began speaking to his captive audience. _

"_Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts. To keep an old man's wheezing and waffling short; the Forbidden Forest is forbidden, check on Mister Filch's door for this year's list of banned items, remember that there is no magic in the halls between classes, and this year's Defense Professor is Mister Gilderoy Lockhart." _

"_Bee up his…" Blaise trailed her whisper off, hiding the entire comment behind the rabid applause for the blond menace at the Head table. _

_"I'm pretty sure it's a Weasley, actually." Draco said, nose in the air. _

"_As am I," Harry said, "come on, we're going to play guard." He didn't give the others a chance to object before weaving his way towards the first years even as the rest of the Hall started to empty.___

Sure enough, the six second-years made it to the huddled group of first-years mere seconds before one furious Ron Weasley shoved his way into their midst, and grabbed his sister. His intention was blindingly obvious: Drag her to Gryffindor and make her one by force. The amusing part was that he apparently still had the silencing spell on him.

Ginevra, of course, resisted, giving Vincent and Gregory a chance to move behind Ron while Kira got between him and the Gryffindor part of the Hall. Harry stepped forcibly between Ron and Ginevra, and glared until Ron let go.

"Blaise, would you and Kira please talk to Ron while the first-years are shown to the common room?" Harry's voice was cold as ice, and his glare sat firmly on Ron…who seemed oblivious.

"I don't care if I have to be friends with you, you slimy, slithering snake, but you're not getting my sister!" Ron practically screamed as the spell wore off.

Harry could feel Ginevra's shaking, as she hadn't moved away when he'd stepped between the siblings, and was therefore pressed against his back. He was opening his mouth to retort when two things happened.

"Headmaster approaching." Kira hissed as Ginevra stepped out from behind Harry.

"Ron Weasley, you are being a prat!" Ginevra glared at her brother. "Grow up."

By then everyone who was left, all of Slytherin and parts of the other three houses, were watching in amusment.

"Is there a problem here?" The Headmaster had finally managed to wade through the students.

"No sir." Harry said.

"Yes sir," Ron spoke simultaneously, then continued angrily. "My sister's in Slytherin."

"Slytherin is just another house, Mister Weasley, and you are making a scene." The Headmaster spoke calmly.

"But sir, you said in your letter…" Ron was, apparently, a pro at digging holes.

"Mister Weasley, I am going to have to insist that you return to your dorms at once. Your Head of House will speak with you later." The Headmaster cut him off, but too late, much too late.

It took another five minutes to get everyone out of the Great Hall and well on their way to sleep. As per tradition, the Slytherin first-years were settled on couches under the eye of a seventh-year prefect. Against tradition, Harry remained in the Common Room with Blaise, Kira, Gregory, Draco, and Vincent.

As the prefect spoke with the first years, Harry and the others huddled as far away from them as possible and discussed the current situation.

"Weasley needs to be dealt with." Blaise said calmly, leaning forward so that the light from the nearby fire cast deep shadows across her face. "Can he be my new toy?"

"Don't see why not." Harry said, shrugging.

"Why _your _toy?" Draco asked, arrogance plain in his voice.

"Because when Blaise plays she breaks her toys, and I want him broken." Harry answered before a fight could break out, glaring at Draco as he did so. Teaching Draco that he wasn't the king of everything was trying, but he was slowly changing. "You've been over before, remember Tony?"

"That muggle boy?" Draco blinked, and Harry and Blaise grinned when his eyes widened. "Oh. OH!"

"I'm confused." Greg said softly, looking between the three 'mains'.

"Ah…my third or forth experiment with memory and personality modification. It's a – talent, you could say." Blaise grinned. "The boy acts however I want him to, which means he can be a playmate in front of adults, and a butler-slash-maid-slash-whatever the rest of the time."

"Right, whatever you're planning, save it for tomorrow." Professor Snape interrupted the six as he walked over, having entered the common room in time to dismis the first-years.

"Yes, Professor Snape." the six chorused, rising and making their way to their dorms. He had been right, Harry realized, staring around the room he shared with Gregory: They still had to unpack before they could sleep.

~~#~~#~~

_Father,_

_The night is clear, with a brisk wind, and the leaves have yet to start changing color. How have you and mother been? I have arrived safely, and will soon be going to bed. _

_There are three things you may find interesting. The first is that Blaise seems to have the ability to manipulate people, like the imperious curse, only I don't think it can be fought. Harry has given her permission to use this on Ronald Weasley. I don't understand why _he_ is the one who gave her permission, after all _I_ am the _Malfoy_ in our group. Then again, he _is_ the Boy-Who-Lived, and all that. _

_The second is that Harry is trying to collect the Weasley twins. I think this is a good thing. They are different from their family. They may be turned to our way of thinking with proper guidance. _

_The third is that Ginevra Weasley is a Slytherin. Her _sorting_ is why Ronald is going to be broken. He made a scene, and even got the __headmaster__ angry at him. Said something about a letter from the headmaster about how Slytherins are bad. I think Blaise is going to look into that. _

_Please tell mother I miss her. It will be getting colder soon, so please take care of both of you. _

_-Draco_

Lucius smiled down at the letter. It wasn't perfect by any means, but his son was improving. Once he finished mentally critiquing the practical aspect of the letter he turned his mind to the contents. They were both unexpected, and unwelcome.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the morning Harry didn't remember his nightmare, only strong arms holding him as he cried. He knew why he'd had it though; it was the change of scenery and the stress. Every time he moved it happened: The nightmares came back.

~~*~~

"So, what do we have today?" Harry asked as he took his seat at the Slytherin table, Gregory sitting a half-second later. Draco, Vincent, Blaise, and Kira had headed down earlier, Draco having decided to let Harry and Gregory sleep in slightly.

"Charms with Ravenclaw, DADA with Gryffindor, Transfigurations with Hufflepuff, and Potions with Gryffindor." Blaise said instantly, not even looking up from her breakfast. Harry quickly loaded his own plate and started eating.

"Hey, mail." Vincent pointed to the owls that were just starting to flood the Great Hall. This caught Draco's attention, and he started searching for his father's owl. Sure enough, he quickly had a letter in his hands, sealed with the Malfoy crest. He opened it, and read through, letting out a small breath of surprise.

"What?" Harry asked, and Draco handed him the letter. He and Blaise read it together, both raising their eyebrows part-way through.

"_'As for the Weasley girl, she is in possession of a blank diary stamped with the initials T.M.R. Retrieve this diary by any means. If she is a Slytherin there is hope for her.'_" Blaise looked up, "what does that mean?"

"Let's get the diary and find out." Harry said, also looking up. "At least he approves of 'cultivating' the Twins."

"Speaking of Weasleys, do you think Professor Snape would keep _Ronald_ after class if I asked him to?" Blaise asked, her eyes traveling across the hall to lock on the back of one violently red head in particular.

"Sure." Harry said over a mouthful of berry jam covered toast.

~~*~~

Charms passed relatively normally. They were starting the year with a review of their previous lessons, and Harry was rather glad he'd been practicing with Blaise after dinner a few nights a week. It wasn't like they were going to get caught, and Mrs. Zabini had made it perfectly clear that she expected them to maintain the proficiency they'd left school with, if not improve upon it, over the summer.

Professor Flitwick had been overjoyed by the time class let out, and Harry shared a snigger with Draco. After all, the class was Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Slytherins would find a way to practice because the purebloods were expected to, and Ravenclaws would do so because they couldn't stand to loose good learning time by getting rusty.

"I'd hate to see what his Gryffinpuff class is like." Draco said once they were in the hall.

"Uh…what's the incantation for 'wingardium leviosa' again?" Blaise mocked, getting laughs out of the other five.

"Most likely." Harry shrugged, treading the familiar path to the DADA classroom.

"All right, Harry? I'm – I'm Colin Creevey," a little pipsqueak in Gryffindor robes jumped in front of them, clutching what had to be a muggle camera. Harry noticed Blaise pulling Draco back a few steps as the kid opened his mouth again. "I'm in Gryffindor, and Ronald Weasley keeps saying how you should be in Gryffindor and not a slimy Slytherin snake, but I think the Hat put you where you need to be, and can I have a picture so I can prove to my dad and my brother and my mum that I met you?" he gasped most of his speech out in one breath.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, hoping Blaise and Draco would offer him some backup. They were huddled with Kira behind Gregory and Vincent, and for a second he thought they were going to simply ignore his plight. Then Vincent said something that made his blood run cold.

"Lockhart." No inflection, no emotion, just one name and their entire group froze for an instant.

Blaise stepped forwards.

"Creevey."

His eyes snapped towards hers, and Harry saw the point where she trapped him with her mind. "You take lots of pictures?" He felt Draco move up beside him.

"Um-hmm." Creevey nodded, his entire body shaking itself from tense to marginally relaxed.

"Do you have some with you?" Blaise's voice was strangely calm, and something made Harry just want to watch, instead of trying to pull her away as Lockhart approached. He'd taken a disliking to the man, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Um-hmm." Creevey nodded, his eyes never leaving Blaise's.

"Bring some down to dinner. I would like to see what you can do." Blaise stepped forwards and whispered something in his ear just as Lockhart made it to them.

"Okay." Creevey turned and walked away, not entirely steady for the first few steps.

"What's the holdup here?" Lockhart's excessively cheerful voice grated, and Harry glanced at Blaise, hoping she'd take point in this little confrontation.

"I had a business proposition for Mr. Creevey, Professor." Blaise said, voice like sugared butter, eyes batting ridiculously at him. "I didn't mean to hold anyone else up." They all heard a few snorts from the audience of students who had gathered during the whole ridiculous affair, but no one contradicted her.

"Aren't you a little young to be conducting business?" Lockhart asked, looking over her with a gaze that made Harry want to punch him. By the sharp intake of breath next to him Draco had seen it too, whatever _it_ was.

"No, Professor." Blaise said calmly. Movement to his right made Harry look over in time to see Kira slide into her usual place next to and a little behind Blaise. "Now, if you don't mind, we need to get to class." With that she started towards the DADA classroom, Harry, Draco, Gregory, and Vincent quickly falling in with her.

Lockhart, Harry noticed with a discreet glance behind them, was staring with his mouth slightly open. Luckily for them he stayed that way until they'd rounded the corner, allowing them to slip into a hidden passage that would get them to the classroom well ahead of the professor.

~~*~~

In the DADA classroom the six of them were quickly joined by Hermione Granger, who, it turned out, was being snubbed worse than ever by the other Gryffindor second-years. In fact she looked like she'd been crying, though not too heavily.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry heard Kira whisper as Hermione sat down.

"Nothing." She whispered back. "Ron's just being a prat."

"Did you try talking to Fred and George?" Kira asked.

"Yeah. They're actually really nice and all, but they're older, and-" she cut herself off, looking towards the door as Lockhart strode in. The class settled quickly, and Lockhart picked up Longbottom's copy of _Travels with Trolls_. He held it up next to his face displaying two smiling winking Lockhart faces at once.

"Me. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class,…" Harry stopped listening, sharing a single glance with Draco that said quite clearly 'Lucius was right, he's a fraud'.

"But, I see that some of you don't have your books." Lockhart had moved to the back. "What is this about boys?" he asked Harry, Draco, Vincent, and Gregory, though Blaise, Hermione, and Kira also had no books with them.

"Well, Professor," Draco said smoothly, "we didn't want to risk damaging your books, and because _you_ are our teacher we thought we could just read them in our dorms so that they aren't at risk."

"After all," Blaise stepped neatly in, batting her eyelashes and generally flirting with the horrid man, "having you in person is so much better than reading your books. I'm sure there are so many things you could teach us. Besides, if we have all our books in front of us we can't see you well." Harry saw the fingers crossed behind her back.

"So true. Right. Everybody, please leave your books in your dorms from now on. I can't believe so many of you were willing to risk damaging them!" Lockhart flounced…literally…back to the front of the room, and all seven of them traded quick, horrified glances while he grabbed a stack of parchment from the teacher's desk and started handing out out.

The test was fun. All of them, Hermione included, thoroughly enjoyed answering the questions in such a way that Lockhart would find appalling, but not let on that they knew he was a fraud. _"After all, if no one has complained, he must be doing something. Don't put yourselves at risk. Be Slytherins."_

_13. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans? _ ___Skunk__ Was Harry's favorite from his own test, though Draco's answer to 23 (_What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's best spell? __His attract airhead females charm_ made him choke back a rather unmanly giggle.

When they handed back the tests they enjoyed how Lockhart's face went from mildly disappointed to confused as he read through the stack. Luckily he didn't read anything off, and simply moved on to the next part of the 'lesson'.

When he unveiled the cage of Cornish Pixies the class laughed. When he opened the cage people started screaming and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Kira had to drag Hermione out of the room, reminding her that Lockhart would need to reap what he sewed. None of them wanted to help the man. After all, if they fixed the problem he'd be able to say he'd intended them to. If they left it to him he had no excuse for not being able to contain a party of pixies.

~~*~~*~~

When they entered the dungeons for Potions Harry took a deep breath and let the familiar room soothe him. He'd spent so much time there the previous year that he didn't mind the dank or gloom. It was actually rather calming. Not to mention the days he'd spent helping Severus in his personal lab over the summer.

Unlike most days Blaise didn't immediately move to a desk. Harry watched her walk towards Snape's desk, confused for a moment. She whispered something to him, he responded, she jerked her head in a slight nod, and Harry suddenly remembered what their plan was. He smirked, then wiped it off his face as class started.

Professor Snape quickly reorganized the classroom, pairing Slytherins with Gryffindors. Draco, admittedly the best in their year at Potions, was paired with Longbottom. Vincent, who was close to hopeless, was with Granger. The rest of them were in pairings that, hopefully, wouldn't cause any explosions.

A half-hour into class Blaise and Weasley's cauldron exploded. Violently. The only Slytherins who didn't manage to duck were the three other girls. The only Gryffindor who did duck was Hermione. It was, of course, lucky that Snape had the antidote to their potion handy, and no one had to go to the Hospital Wing.

~~*~~

"Miss. Zabini, Mr. Weasley, please remain." Professor Snape's voice cut across the noise of the class packing up, and Harry watched with vindictive pleasure as Weasley slumped at his stool, looking rebellious.

The class quickly cleared out, Harry sending a single _look_ towards his sister before the door closed. They would know soon enough the results of her work.

~~*~~*~~

"You look tired." Draco's comment pulled Harry's attention from his food and towards Blaise, who had just arrived in the great hall and did, indeed, look tired.

"Weasley's stubborn, and I've never done that on a magical person before." Blaise replied as Kira filled her plate with potatoes, meat, and gravy. "Thank's Kira."

"Un." Kira grunt-said, turning back to her own food.

"Wait, what about Creevey?" Gregory asked, forehead furrowed in confusion.

"That wasn't anywhere near as hard. I wasn't trying to implant a three-layered latent-to-active personality program in Creevey. I was trying to get him to shut up and come back later, which is baby stuff." Blaise shrugged.

"So how'd it catch?" Harry asked.

"Barely enough. I'll need to reinforce it soon." Blaise replied quietly, spooning some of the potatoes into her mouth.

"As long as it'll hold so he doesn't talk." Harry replied, sending a glare towards the door where the subject of their conversation was entering, his pace slightly less energetic than usual.

"Oh, it will." Blaise grinned, and Harry relaxed.

"So, about Creevey…" Draco drawled, eyes rather obviously looking over the Gryffindor table to where one small boy was quite literally bouncing in his seat.

"… Damn." Blaise groaned, and started shoveling food in her mouth with about as much enthusiasm as the general populace in Binns' class.


	28. The Blaise Chapters 3

**Story: **The Enemy of My Father

**Author: **Mihra~Attar

**Chapter: **The Blaise Chapters 3

**Chapter Rating:** T?

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, etc.

**A/N:** Heh. Only two weeks this time! Thank you to my lovely reviewers! It's good to know people are still sticking with me! Many special thanks to my beta _imadoodlenoodle_, who has been periodically poking me this entire time to make sure I'm alive, and who is still editing all my chapters.

Also: I have a poll up now. I'm trying to figure out when I want these guys to start really getting into the hormones stage of teenagehood (romance, angst, dating, kissing, etc). It's a blind poll, and ffnet messes up the order of answers 'to reduce creator bias'. _I just wanted a nice, neat line of numbers ~shakes fist at the Powers That Be~_. Right, so if you could give that a quick lookie, that'd be nice.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

"Hiya, Harry!" The chipper voice shot through Blaise's skull like tiny spears, and she tried her hardest not to groan. She really, really didn't want to have to deal with him, but she knew putting him off would be, what was that word her mother used, detrimental? Yes, it would be detrimental to her plans.

"Hullo, Colin." Harry sounded rather put-out by the cheerful boy.

"Colin." Blaise said, just loudly and sharply enough for the boy to hear and respond. "C'mere and show me what you brought while I eat." The boy bounced over, and threw one leg over the bench, swinging his bag off his shoulder and pulling a photo album out. Blaise glanced at the first few photos, took a bite, glanced at the next few, took a bite, glanced at the next few and turned to get a better look.

"Where did you take these?" she asked, watching as Colin flipped though the next few pages, mumbling about where he'd taken them. They were actually rather good, most action shots instead of the stills that many photographers-for-hire preferred.

"Wait, stop." She halted his hand before he could turn to the next page. "This is in Cambridge." She rested a single finger on the protective covering over a posed picture of a small boy and a rather dashing man standing in front of Great St. Mary's Church.

"Yeah. Dad took us there every Sunday for mass." Colin grinned. "Oh, that's my dad and my brother." He suddenly flipped a few pages, "And that's my mum." He was pointing to a rather plain woman in front of a rather plain house. Blaise would have dismissed her as completely unimportant if they'd met on the streets, but she had a soft, tolerant smile on her face, and Blaise wondered if she'd like the woman if they got to know one another.

"Zabini." Flint had finished eating and walked over.

"Yes Flint?" Blaise asked, watching Colin turn a few more pages.

"Why is there a Gryffindor at our table?" Flint asked, his voice steely.

"Because wizarding photographers suck, and if you want a muggleborn to survive our world you have to start training them immediately." Blaise said, turning to meet Flint's cold glare. "My mother told me to stay on the lookout." She stilled Colin's hands and closed the album. "Go back to Gryffindor. I'll owl my mum and find you when she gets back to me." He nodded and left, not putting up a fight only because she'd used a mild compulsion again. Blaise watched him return to the Gryffindor table.

"Don't think you can sit here, you traitor." Ronald's voice was loud enough to be heard by everyone in the Great Hall.

"Ronald Weasley shut up!" Hermione's was even louder.

"Oy, Creevey, come sit with us." Fred and George said in unison. Blaise watched out of the corner of her eye until Colin had taken a plate of desert, then turned back to Flint.

"Mum wants me to find a wizarding pet, alright?" she said quietly.

"Fine. Just don't let him drag dirt in." Flint sneered before turning on his heels and leaving.

~~*~~

Back in the common room, Blaise quickly grabbed one of the alcoves for their group, and settled down to wait while Kira grabbed the books she didn't have in her bag. She really wasn't interested in studying or doing homework, but she knew better than to put it off. Not only would Professor Snape be unhappy, he'd tell her mother, and that was to be avoided at all costs.

"Charms." Kira's grunted word accompanied the textbook that landed less than an inch from Blaise's hand. Blaise looked up with a weary glare, and opened the book to the page they'd been on in class.

"Yeah, yeah." Blaise muttered. "The sooner we finish homework the sooner we can practice, and the sooner we practice the sooner we can go to bed."

"You know," Harry sat down across the alcove from her, "I just realized I have no clue how I didn't notice you guys talking about practicing last year." He pulled out his own book.

"You were thinking about this really cool new thing called magic." Draco drawled.

"Right." Harry looked down at his book, and Blaise stopped watching, turning her mind to the essay she had to write.

For a while the only sounds in the alcove were breathing, page turning, the scratching of quills on parchment, and the tapping of said quills on glass. Then Harry asked a question and Draco answered, paving the way for a number of questions from Gregory and Vincent.

Two hours later their essays were finished, and Blaise dragged her bag to her room where she proceeded to collapse onto her bed.

"Come on, Blaise." Kira said calmly, grabbing her trombone case. "Practice."

"Bugger practicing," Blaise groused, closing her eyes. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"Suit yourself." Blaise heard her leave, and sighed towards the canopy of the bed. It had been a long first day back.

~~*~~*~~

Blaise was at the end of her patience. Weasley had managed to slip out of being alone with her for two days in a row. She knew he hadn't talked, but she needed to get at him soon to reinforce the initial modifications. Her chance came on Friday night when she decided to stay at dinner with Vincent and Gregory instead of going with Harry, Draco, and Kira to practice.

Weasley, she noticed, was busy stuffing his face with more than even Vincent or Greg would eat. How he wasn't fat she would never know, but he'd managed to set himself up for a nice kidnapping, so Blaise wasn't going to complain. No, she was just going to make sure she used the gift he was unintentionally giving her.

When Weasley looked like he was about to leave Kira poked Vincent and Greg, and led them to the entrance hall. Instead of turning towards the dungeons they started up the stairs. On the landing for the second floor Weasley caught up with them.

"What're you doing here?" he asked sulkily, and Blaise was very glad she'd gotten to him when she did.

"Come and we'll show you." She said, catching his eye. Immediately she felt the few defenses he'd tried to raise since their first 'conversation' crumble, and the foundation she'd laid reasserted itself. He nodded, and followed her down the second floor corridor to Myrtle's bathroom.

"Who's there?" Myrtle asked, poking her head out of her stall. "Why are there _boys_ here?"

"Myrtle, these are my friends Vincent and Gregory, and we need to talk to Ronald, but he's a Gryffindor, so we can't be seen with him. Your bathroom is very safe." Blaise made sure her voice was sweet, but not condescending. "I trust you Myrtle. I know you'll let us use your bathroom so that we don't get teased and bullied for talking to a Gryffindor."

"Oh," Myrtle giggled and disappeared into the u-bend of her toilet. Blaise smirked.

Vincent and Gregory took up guard positions by the door, and Blaise turned her attention back to Weasley. She easily slipped into the core of his mind, following the path she'd created four days ago. As she looked around she remembered her mother's training.

"_But _why_ do I have to learn how to program a muggle computer?" Blaise whined, looking up at her mother, her six-year-old fingers stilling on the keyboard. _

"_Because, the human mind is much like a computer, and you have inherited the gift of our ancestors." Her mother smiled. _

"_But _why_?" Blaise asked. _

"_Blaise. The human mind is like a computer. Legillimens can look around; explore the files, and generally interact with the system. We can't do that naturally, but we can do something even better; we can access the kernel itself, explore it, and modify it. However, I'll not let you near an actual person until you can prove that you can safely modify a computer's kernel."_

It had taken her four years of study before her mother let her try on a person. Her first, an annoying girl in her class, ended up a vegetable. Her second ended up retarded. Her third caught, but had a number of glitches, and her fourth was Tony. Now she was working on her first wizard, and, as she'd learned four days ago, his magic resisted her meddling.

_There, that section. That's why he's been able to resist so well. His will is surrounded by his magic. Hmm. _Blaise focused her attention on what she was seeing-not-seeing in his mind. She'd reinforced her previous work as she mused, and was going to use this session to start breaking him.

His will was surprisingly reinforced, _stubborn idiocy_, and it took time to worm through the protection without breaking it. In all her work on computers breaking a protection caused a chain reaction that would translate to a violent mental attack on her, so she didn't want to even try force. Instead she explored the protections and found the chinks, the weaknesses that would eat at Weasley's soul. _Being a youngest son of a big family. Money issues. Jealousy. Oh, that's nice._ The Jealousy was the deepest chink, and it only took a little prodding to let her in.

His will _was_ mostly stubbornness, and Blaise quickly planted a small seed in it, one that would slowly take over his will and convert it into hers. He wouldn't change behavior unless ordered to, but over time he would become unable to resist her commands. It was much like the _imperious_ curse, only once it was set it couldn't be fought.

When his will was out of the way her programming would start to take faster. It would be rocky for a bit, and she'd have to reinforce her work frequently at first, but she probably wouldn't have to do too much more in-depth work.

"Go back to your dorm. You are not allowed to speak of this to anyone until I retract your silence." Blaise sent Weasley on his way, and let Vincent and Gregory walk her back to Slytherin.

~~*~~

"Well?" Harry was waiting by the door with Kira when Blaise entered the common room.

"I still have work to do, but the main resistance should be taken care of." Blaise said, shaking her shoulders to loosen them. "Where's Draco?"

"Still practicing. He worked with me on all my stuff, and now he's going over his own." Harry shrugged, then looked back at the book in his lap.

"What's that?" Blaise asked, not recognizing it immediately, which meant it wasn't a textbook. Harry closed it on his finger and held it up so she could see the cover.

"Lucius gave it to me." He said as she read _Politics and Power in the Pureblood World._

"Heavy reading." Blaise grinned. "Are you sure it won't break your brain?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Blaise." Harry re-opened the book. "I'm sure it won't break my brain."

"Geze. Who shoved a stick up your arse?" Blaise flopped onto a nearby chair.

"No one."

She waited, and was rewarded.

"I had a meeting with Severus while you were consorting with the idiot."

"And?" Blaise grabbed her bag from Kira and pulled out her howework to check it over.

"Apparently he's been 'thinking' while I was with you and your mum."

"Your mum." Blaise immediately corrected him, having made such corrections habit over the past few weeks.

"Whatever." His eyes were still on the page.

"Why's it got you so down?" Blaise kept her homework out so that her brother wouldn't feel any more pressured than her words already made him feel.

"He was still seeing my dad all last year. He was listening to me pour my heart out, and part of him still saw a dead bully!" Harry's book flew across the room, and the look on his face told Blaise that he'd only just realized he'd been shouting, effectively silencing the rest of the common room.

"Right, get the stick out of your ass, then come talk to me." Blaise said, closing her book and grabbing her bag. _What the hell? Does he have no sense? Why did he have to shout that to the whole of Slytherin? Why does he even care? It's not like Professor Snape is mean to him, quite the opposite. What's his problem? _

Blaise stormed to her room and around Kira's bed, threw her stuff on the floor, grabbed her flute, and stormed to a practice room. Once behind the soundproofed walls she vented her irritation at Weasley, her brother, Weasley, their homework, Weasley, the fact that she hadn't heard back from her mother yet about Colin, and Weasley by playing every piece she knew.

~~*~~*~~

_BoS -__ Journal -__ September 5__th__, 1992. Friday._

_I started taking my frustrations out on Harry. I think he needed me to be his sister right then, but I honestly couldn't care less about Professor Snape and how he thought about Harry last year. I mean, it's the action that matters, not the thought, so what's the problem? Still, I hope Greg'ry can set him straight. _

_In other news, I figured out why Weasley was giving me trouble. His will was completely surrounded with his magic, go figure. So I dealt with that by snaking in and leaving a seed. I'll have to keep an eye on him until I know it's taken, but I'm not worried about him breaking through without warning now. After all, if he does break through he'll probably go nuts, and I can just disavow any knowledge of why. _

_Reminder_ _- Check on Weasley regularly._

_Reminder_ _- Check in with Weasley Twins._

_Reminder_ _- Check in with Ginevra._ _Diary?_

_Reminder_ _ Apologize to Harry when see him next. _

_End journal entry -__ September 5__th__, 1992. Friday_

~~*~~AN~~*~~

Author loves reviews. Beta loves review even more than author. Author has a poll (Yes, she's saying it again) to help her figure out when the dating starts.

Author doesn't like ffnet not liking her arrows and turning them into accented 'a's.


	29. Angst

TEoMF 29

Rated... T? M? Rated something along those lines for language... mild language. ...whatever.

A/N: I'm avoiding randomly inserting comments along the lines of 'ZOMG NOES! Sarumon's trying to bring down teh mountainz! Don't diez little hobbitz!' Mm. Can we tell I'm watching tLotR? Sad thing is, I don't actually like it. It really, really is a DnD comedy. So, let's just remember this is being written under the influence of teh ROFLMAO.

Um...the elves are bugging me. ...just though you ought to know.  
Crazy female elf is SO COOL! Like, dude, you're kinda scary, and where's the bed? 'cause you'd make a ridic dominatrix!

Fight the orcs! Fight the orcs! Fight the mob of orcs, all alone. Oh, wait, no, there's your friends! Fight the giant mob of orcs with just you and your friends! OH, hide behind a tree as Orcs pass right by you. Oh, oh, then call the orcs! Call them! Oh, and all of this is after the bipolar human goes aggressive...though he'll save some of ya' later. ...Right, stand there and watch as the crazy, zerking soldier gets shot a couple times and keeps fighting.

...aaand comes the MPD Golem. Joy. Yes, by the way, I've decided to watch all three movies...in one night. And write this chapter whilst I'm at it. Feel much love for _imadoodlenoodle_ when she gets this and fixes my caffeinated arse-ups. I's having coffee at midnight! *giant grin*

...aaand I _just_ figured out why the second movie is called the Two Towers.

Want. Dragon-thing!

Oh damn, this is -such- a comedy! Honestly, it's bloody hilarious. ...I -like- Gandalf the White. He's, like, powerful. 'Begone, evil possessor'. I mean, honestly, I'm starting to wonder if JKR decided 'hey, why don't I put Jesus into LoTR, make it on Here-Earth, and make everyone wizards!'. Yeah.

"Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time."

**B/N: I don't know what has happened to Mihra, I think she's had some sort of breakdown. Hence the ramblings above. Because of that, can you leave nice reviews? Even if it's just some words of comfort. (If anyone has any training with what to do in these situations, please PM or email me. I have a feeling I need all the help I can get.)**

Muse/N: Dog-sitting, The Lord of the Rings, and midterms happened to Mihra. That, and she and her muses find hilarity in the oddest situations. On the other hand, aren't you glad there aren't random LotR comments scattered about the story itself? Still, Mihra's out of her mind, please leave a review after the beep.

~~*~~*~~

All the lights were out in the dorm room, nothing but silence from Gregory's bed. It had to be at least two in the morning, though that was less certain than the fact that it was dark. Uriel was curled in his basket, sound asleep. Hedwig sat on her perch, feathers fluffed, looking quite comfortable.

Harry, paced.

Harry paced some more.

Harry paced until his legs started to hurt.

Harry wanted to strangle Severus. He wanted to hit the man until he stopped moving. He wanted to force-feed him poison of his own creation. He really, really wanted a hug, wanted Severus to hold him and tell him it was okay, that he wasn't bad, wasn't a freak, wasn't his father. He wanted to know the man didn't hate him, knew the man didn't hate him, knew it took time and active work to heal, knew because he was trying to heal, knew he really, really wanted to hurt him, hug him, hurt him.

Basically, Harry was confused, tired, grumpy, and he'd snapped at Gregory so badly that the boy'd pulled his curtains and probably put up some form of silencing barrier.

Harry kicked his bed.

...It hurt.

So he threw himself on the bed and started punching it.

...It didn't help.

Finally he gave up, flinging himself off the bed and towards his desk, one hand grabbing his wand to light the torches around the room as he threw himself into the chair. He knew they wouldn't disturb Gregory, as they'd long since discovered the light-blocking powers of their bed hangings. No, he wouldn't disturb him at all.

Quill, ink, parchment, all easily acquired, though the parchment tore slightly and the quill lost a few barbs to rough handling.

_'Luc-' _the quill tore through the parchment, tip breaking off as it tried to gouge a hole in the desk. Harry made a strangled noise deep in his throat and shoved away from the desk, tipping the chair so that it hit the floor with a bang, and really not caring. He needed to get out, to go _somewhere._

Despite the fact that it was already getting cold at night, Harry didn't bother grabbing a cloak as he stormed out of Slytherin, knowing the common room didn't count as away, not with as worked up as he was.

The walls of the castle blurred as Harry walked, not noticing where his feet carried him. He was angry, furious, scared, worried, and so many other things, but mostly he was angry. He didn't even know why he was this angry, just that he was, and that it wasn't going away.

"I trusted you," Harry whispered, coming to a stop somewhere in the dungeons, a solid wall in front of him. "I trusted you!" His right fist slammed into the wall, and something made a rather disturbing crunching sound. He didn't care. "I trusted you!" Again, and with more crunching. "I trusted you!" The last was a scream, echoing around him like the taunts of a child.

"Trusted you, I trusted you, I trusted you, trusted you, trusted you, trusted..." Harry stared at the wall, his hand starting to ache. He didn't care. He was a bit beyond caring, not knowing what was going on, not understanding why he was feeling so much.

"I trusted you," he whispered once more, turning his back to the wall and sliding down it, cradling his broken hand to his chest. He didn't care that he was smearing his own blood down the wall, nor that his hand might be beyond repair. No, all he cared about was that his outside showed at least a little of the hurt and anger he felt inside. That was all that mattered. That, and the strange liquid that fell from his eyes, tasting of saline and turmoil. He wouldn't name it, not now, not when the one who was causing it was the one who'd told him it was okay.

"And did you trust me falsely?"

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes locking on the dark figure that stood, no, sat, with his back against the far wall. Harry just stared at him, the shock of his presence shaking Harry from his numbness, finally feeling his hand that was throbbing unpleasantly.

"Was your trust misplaced?"

Harry stared, rage and exhaustion warring, the emotional din keeping the words from penetrating his awareness.

"Did I betray you in word or deed, or was it only in not healing my own wounds before I had ensured your safety, both mental and physical?" The sarcasm didn't help Harry's comprehension.

When Harry didn't respond Severus sighed and rose. "Come on, let's get that hand tended to." He reached for Harry, but Harry shifted away, tucking his injured hand to his chest even as the pain of moving it made his vision tunnel.

"No, don't touch me." Harry hissed, trying to not black out. He expected Severus, no, Professor Snape, to reach for him anyways, but the Professor backed off, taking a step back and crouching to be closer to Harry's level.

"Harry, you can walk or I can carry you, but you're going to the Hospital Wing, now." Professor Snape said, his body saying quite clearly that he was going to wait for Harry to chose which, though his patience was not unending.

Harry stared at Professor Snape, thinking. He really, really hated the man at the moment, and had a year of trusting him as a confidante and almost-parental-figure. He wanted to mistrust the Professor, and he wanted to trust him, the first adult he'd trusted since his first year of school.

"I'll walk." He grumbled after a few minutes.

"I will catch you if you fall." Professor Snape said, rising again and extending a hand.

Harry tried to push himself to his feet using his left hand, and his right gave a giant throb, causing his vision to black out completely though he didn't fall. He did have to lean heavily against the wall, and he felt Professor Snape swoop over as though to catch him, but the man didn't actually make contact.

"Whatever." Harry said when his vision cleared.

"Whenever you are ready." Professor Snape backed up, although not so far that he would be unable to catch Harry if he were to stumble or some such.

"Let's just go." Harry pushed away from the wall, moving more slowly than he would have liked to as his blood moved strangely through his veins, product of the mashed hand he was quite thoroughly regretting.

They paced the halls, a silence that was both awkward and comfortable. Harry was fine until they hit their first set of stairs, at which point Professor Snape had to catch him as he swayed, vision tunneling again. He would have expected the man to pick him up then and there, but he didn't, instead simply holding Harry until the world stopped swaying around him.

"Thank you, sir." Harry snark-mumbled finally, not wanting to be rude, but not happy that the cause of his...emotional outburst...was anywhere around him.

"At your leisure." Professor Snape's sarcasm was plain, and at the same time he was respecting Harry's physical space as much as possible. It was confusing Harry more than he would ever admit.

Up the stairs, pausing whenever he got dizzy, Harry kept his mouth shut and his mind as blank as possible. Not that it was hard; each moment was wholly focused on taking the next step without falling.

"How did you find me, anyways?" Harry asked on the third landing, or, the landing he thought was the third at least, as he waited for his heart to calm a little, leaning against the wall as it was the least likely to move suddenly.

"There are wards on the common room that alert me when any of my Slytherins leave after curfew. They also tag whoever does, and I can follow the trace to the errant student." Professor Snape drawled. "I don't always do so, but the hour is much later than the usual wanderings, and I felt it would be prudent to investigate."

Harry could just hear the arched eyebrow and superior smirk. "Bloody nanny," he mumbled, pushing off the wall and waiting for Professor Snape to start walking again.

Finally, after more stairs than Harry remembered there being in the entire castle, much less between Slytherin and the Hospital Wing, they made it to the domain of the school's medic.

"What in the name of Merlin could be wrong at this time of night?" Madame Pomfrey asked, stepping into the Wing even as she threw a robe over a rather luridly floral pink nightgown.

"We had a little argument with a wall." Professor Snape said, smirk quite evident in his voice.

"Fuck you." Harry snapped, moving to sit on the nearest bed.

"Mr Potter!" Madame Pomfrey sounded shocked and appalled.

Harry just sneered.

"Mr Potter, if you do not correct your attitude towards Madame Pomfrey I _will_ take points." Professor Snape challenged.

"But not you?" Harry snapped.

"No, Mr Potter, not me. What is to be spoken of between you and I is not for points and detention." Professor Snape walked to the wall and leaned against it as Madame Pomfrey started her scans.

"An argument with a wall?" she asked after a minute, looking between Harry and Professor Snape with disbelief.

"Don't ask me, I happened upon the aftermath." Professor Snape shrugged with his voice alone.

Harry cringed a little, knowing that when the man acted as teenage as he was it was because he was particularly irked.

"Right, well the bones are in too many fragments for me to set them all. I'm going to have to vanish them and give you Skele-Grow." She tutted, moving to the potions cabinet and grabbing a goblet and a vial.

"Um..." Harry watched her, wondering whether he'd have a choice even if he _wanted_ to keep his original bones.

"Right." A wave of the matron's wand and the pain in Harry's hand disappeared along with his bones. "Drink this." She handed him the goblet, having splashed some of whatever was in the vial into it.

"It'll taste horrid." Professor Snape added helpfully from the sidelines.

Harry glared at the Professor, gulped the potion while trying not to taste it, and promptly gagged, he managed to avoided actually heaving.

"Water." Madame Pomfrey handed him another goblet, and Harry gulped the cool liquid, grateful that it stripped the flavor of the potion from his tongue.

"Now, please leave us Madame." Professor Snape stepped forwards. "I promise I will not tax him too much." He added as the matron opened her mouth to argue.

"Oh, very well." She glared at the pair of them before bustling back to the quarters behind her office.

"So." Professor Snape pulled up a chair and sank into it.

"Can't you just leave me the fuck alone?" Harry asked, slipping his feet beneath the blankets and trying to pull it up one-handed even as he laid back.

"No." A flick of the Professor's wand raised the top half of the bed, propping Harry up against his will. "We need to talk."

"I don't _want_ to talk to you!" Harry snapped.

"I don't care." Professor Snape replied, voice unnervingly calm. "We need to talk, and now we are going to."

"You can talk at me, but you can't make me talk." Harry snapped, crossing his arms. The gesture was made a bit awkward by having to resettle his hand when it flopped.

"Indeed." The calm acceptance, as much as Professor Snape every accepted something from a student, made Harry wonder what the man had up his sleeve. "I would like you to listen to what I have to say with an open mind."

"Whatever." Harry tightened his arms and glared. Or, at least, he hoped he was glaring. His hand was still being a bit of a problem, and he had to uncross his arms because he kept crushing the tingling, mostly boneless sack of flesh.

"Harry, you know that it takes much time, and much help to overcome trauma. Am I correct?" Professor Snape asked, folding his hands and crossing his legs at the knee so that he could lock his hands around his top knee.

"Yeah, sure." Harry grumbled, not caring why the Professor was asking.

"Can you tell me what might have happened had I attempted to overcome my own trauma before helping you with yours?"

"I dunno." Harry shrugged.

"Guess."

"You'd have kept being a bastard or something."

"And?"

"I'd have been mad at you."

"And?"

"I'd have been acting like what you expected?"

"And?"

"You'd have stopped caring about fixing your trauma because you wouldn't have thought helping me worth it if I acted like a brat?"

"And by helping you first?"

"I don't know? You got to get me to trust you so that you could break me just like every other adult?" Harry turned his head away, ignoring the salt water that slipped from his eyes.

"Wrong." The word was calm, yet surprisingly strong. "By helping you first I kept that cycle from beginning. As an adult, your teacher, and your Head of House, it is my responsibility to ensure your safety and health over my own in times of crisis. It is my responsibility to take care of you. Part of doing that is making sure I also see to my own trauma once I know you are safe, relatively speaking."

"So, what?" Harry asked. "You just have to sit around seeing a dead man in me and pretending to care until you can actually care."

"No, I care, and in doing so I chose to heal my own hurts, so that they do not come between us." Professor Snape leaned forwards.

"Fuck, just go away." Harry snapped, not at all interested in the conversation continuing.

"And why should I when you don't seem to be getting my point?" Professor Snape asked calmly, the very calm further enraging Harry.

"I'll think about what you said, okay, just shut up and leave me alone!" Harry raged, slamming his head back against the stubbornly propped up bed. "I want to sleep." He didn't bother mentioning that his hand would probably keep him awake.

"Very well." Professor Snape flicked his wand and the bed lowered itself back into a resting position. "I will leave you to regrow your bones." With that he rose and stalked away, leaving Harry to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep because of the tingling pain in his hand, and unable to distract himself from thinking about anything but Professor Snape's words. They made sense, more than he wanted them to. They made sense, and he just wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He was too tired to be angry, and he wanted Professor Snape's approval too much. It was not a good place to be.

~~*~~*~~

**BEEP**

**B/N: During the editing/writing of this chapter, Mihra and I discovered something amazing and she has now also driven me around the bend.  
**

A/N: Really? I know the discovered part, but around the bend? Really? Really-really? I'm so proud of myself!

**B/N: **The whole 'Dark Lord girlfriend thing' ? Yes, that definitely got me there. You owe me _big_ cyber brownies. My other authors aren't half as, ...you-like, as you are.

A/N: For those of you looking at this going 'wtf?', part of our latest email exchange included:

_At some point, somewhere, I need to do a Harry/Voldemort in which Harry becomes Voldie's second and has his own circle. Then, while trying to get a covert message across to Draco in the middle of the Great Hall Harry (who will be a Gryff) will say something along the lines of:_

_"It's about that present for my girlfriend, I need you guys to check over the spellwork."_

_Granted, I've no clue how I want Draco to -respond- to Harry calling the Dark Lord his 'girlfriend', even if it -is- just 'code'. _

_..._

_So, did I break your brain more? _

_..._

_Will puppy eyes save me from your wrath?_

_..._

_Brownies? Nice, home-cooked brownies?_

_..._

_...  
_

So, reviews?


	30. Aftermath

Answers to reviewer questions at various points in the A/Ns. I've been gone a while. Let's just say RL and my brain caught up with me.

Also, taken down the poll. Thank you to everyone who voted. I found the results over time to be intriguing to say the least. Now, onto the sto-author's notes!

A/N: Few quick answers: 1) No, we didn't see the conversation between Snape and Harry that set Harry off. 2) You try having an emotionally charged conversation at 2 or 3 in the morning after having had an emotionally charged day. Okay, tried that? Now try being Snape and Harry doing that. Okay, tried that? Now try writing that while watching LotR.

Muse/N: Author was sleepy when she wrote the above . . . and grumpy

A/N.2: Pairings: They will exist. Slash, femslash, het, whatever. Chances are it'll happen. In fact, if there's something you particularly want to see put it in a review and I'll let you know if I can work it in or not, granted that it'll all be much later, as the main characters are currently 12, though, apparently a rather angsty 12. Yay! Angst! As-is I'll keep a list somewhere of requests. Also, I probably won't get horribly explicit. It's not something I'm good at, and I'd rather this not degrade to smut. Granted, I'm not sure if it's currently below that due to insanity, or on an entirely different grading scale.

~~*~SB~*~~

Harry stared at the wall of the Hospital Wing, trying to ignore Draco, who was ranting . . . at half-six in the bloody morning. The sun wasn't even up yet for the sake of everything good and magical!

"You punched a wall? You punched a wall!" Draco's voice screeched rather unpleasantly. "What on earth possessed you to punch a wall?"

"I was angry," Harry said flatly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard. Snape, gar, bad, gar, betrayed me, gar. Punched a _wall_?" Draco threw up his hands. Harry would have preferred the boy actually throw up, as it would have silenced him quite nicely . . . well, except for the barfing sounds, so scratch that.

"Nine or ten times, yes." Harry glared.

"Nine or ten _times_?" Draco screeched, his entire body going rigid as he stared at Harry.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy. You may go to breakfast now." And there Snape was, floating in like an overgrown bat to usher Draco out before returning to Harry's bedside. Harry didn't look up, even when he heard the distinctive sounds of Snape sitting down before a potentially difficult conversation.

Then there was more silence.

"Please don't make me, sir," Harry whispered when the silence got to be too much.

"Very well."

Harry snapped his head up to stare at the man. Always before he'd made Harry talk about what was bothering him; why was this time different?

"Harry, before the cause of your distress was someone else. Now it is me. I'm not going to make you talk about it with me. That would hurt you a great deal more than it would help."

Harry stared at him, wondering if he was utilizing legillimency.

"No, I'm not reading your mind."

Yup, he definitely was.

"No, Harry. I am reading your body, the way you sit and shift, where your eyes track, the tilt of your head, the clasp of your hands."

Harry met his eyes, wondering what was going on.

"I was a spy Harry, and before that I was a punching bag. I learned to read people, to know when I needed to be wary, to fear. It has been quite a boon."

"I . . . please can you just go?" Harry asked finally.

"Very well. I will expect you to attend class if you are released by Madam Pomfrey, otherwise I _will_ be checking in with you at lunch." Severus rose. When had he become Severus again? Probably when he'd agreed to leave. The irony almost made Harry laugh.

"Thank you, sir," he murmured instead.

~~^~SB~^~~

Madam Pomfrey did, indeed, release Harry after breakfast, though she first made sure he ate an inordinate amount of food. As it was he made it to Transfiguration with a few minutes to spare and slid into the seat next to Gregory with a small smile. A few seconds later Draco slipped him a note from behind. He opened it as Professor McGonagall started lecturing, and glanced down.

_Harry, sorry I snapped at you last night. The project had me really stressed out, and I needed someone to listen to me rant before I could be reasonable. I guess we just have bad timing, yeah? _

_-Blaise._

Harry smiled at the note and scrawled a quick reply.

_Yeah. I'm sorry too._

He folded the note and handed it back to Draco; he heard it passed to Blaise the next time Professor McGonagall turned her back.

A few minutes into the lesson there was a tapping at the window and the Transfiguration professor irritably flicked her wand at it, causing it to swing open to admit Hedwig, who flew over to Harry and dropped a small scroll of purple parchment onto his desk, landing on his shoulder long enough to nip his ear rather harder than necessary before flying out.

"Mr. Potter-Zabini, for future reference, you will receive all mail outside of my class." Professor McGonagall glared at Harry. "I will let it go this once because I know Madam Pomfrey charmed her windows against owls a few years ago."

Harry nodded mutely, and waited for her to turn around before cracking the maroon wax seal on the scroll and unrolling it.

_Harry James Potter-Zabini,_

One of the rules we laid down after your birthday party was that you were not to be alone outside of the Slytherin dorms. I am disappointed that you have seen fit to break this rule already. I will be there after your last class to discuss this with you.

Do not leave the presence of at least two of your friends.

-Arisandra Magdalene Taurus Zabini  
Matriarch, Zabini Family  
  
Harry closed his eyes, forcing back tears of frustration, pain, and despair, and re-rolled the scroll, tucking it at the bottom of his book bag where it wouldn't fall into the hands of Hogwarts Gossips without serious work on their part. Then he turned his full attention to the lesson, trying to forget how badly his life was spiraling into the familiar abyss.

~~^~SB~^~~

Harry could tell that Blaise was surprised to see her mother waiting when they walked out of History of Magic, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to follow Mrs. Zabini to the dungeons in silence. He thought they were going to Professor Snape's office, but Mrs. Zabini pushed open what he'd always assumed was the door to an unused classroom to reveal a comfortable sitting room with a couch and two armchairs on a deep green rug.

As soon as the door closed Mrs. Zabini pulled him into a hug and Harry froze, eyes wide. That was _not_ what he had been expecting!

"You foolish, silly boy. I'm so glad you're alright." And that was even more unexpected.

Harry stood, stunned, as Mrs. Zabini hugged him.

"What on earth possessed you to wander around after curfew and punch walls until your bones had to be regrown?" Still she didn't let him go, and even tightened her hold on him. "Foolish boy." Her voice, despite the words used, held affection, not malice, and Harry didn't know what to make of it, so he said nothing, did nothing.

Harry didn't know how long they stood there, he with his arms hanging at his side, she with hers wrapped around him. He was confused, and had no clue how to get her to let go, so he finally just let his body relax. Amusingly enough, that was what she'd been waiting for, and less than a minute later she'd moved them both over to the couch, pushing him onto one of the cushions and taking another for herself.

"Now, I think it's time we had a little Talk." She smiled, and Harry started to get a little worried. He'd talked to Professor Snape, Lucius, and Mrs. Zabini many times, of course, but he really didn't like the emphasis she put on the word _talk_. It seemed somehow foreboding.

~~^~SB~^~~

"You know," Harry stared at his trunk, his legs crossed under him, Book of Sins open on his lap. He'd been writing for the last half-hour or so, using the journal setting to try and figure out why he was so confused after the Talk he'd had with Mrs- Risa. Gregory had walked in a few minutes ago and started on what looked like the Astronomy essay they had due later in the week, and one of the new mysteries of Harry's life had finally demanded too much of his attention. "Every time I look at my trunk I get the strangest feeling that I'm forgetting something."

Gregory grunted, obviously not willing to care enough when he was focusing on his homework. This only bothered Harry for a moment, however, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth a slip of paper shot out of his _closed_ trunk and floated into his hands.

_Son,_

If you are reading this you have inherited the Potter resistance to mind-controlling curses. The good news: you'll probably be able to throw off the Imperious_ curse by the time you graduate from Hogwarts. The bad news: you have to tolerate this one for a while. You can't think about the Trunk because then Dumbledore will know, so you have to forget. Please don't resist. The memory will come back next time you enter your vault._

I love you with all my heart,  
Your Father.

"Huh. Never mind." Harry stared at the letter until it wriggled out of his hands and disappeared back into his _closed_ trunk. It definitely explained the sensation.

Looking back at the trunk, Harry realized the unease he'd felt earlier was gone. Wondering why, he started to put his BoS away so he could find Professor Snape, then remembered that he was still angry, Talk notwithstanding. Sighing, he created a tag for the second half of his journal entry and continued writing, wondering when he'd again feel comfortable enough to ask the professor about memory charms and how they worked.

"Got it solved then?" Gregory asked a little more than fifteen minutes later. Harry looked up, confused for only a moment.

"Yeah, thanks for checking." Both went back to their work in a familiar and companionable silence.

~~*~~A/N~~*~~

**A/N:** If people really, really want the Talk, I'll write it out and put it in Snippets of Life.

Otherwise this'll have to do, as I . . . severely dislike Talks, and don't particularly wish to write one, even if it would be amusing.

**B/N: **'Bout time too, hmm?

**A/N:** Hey, massive writer's block, staffing summer camp, and vacations away from a computer'll do that.


	31. Customs

"She's making calf-eyes at you again."

"And you're telling me this why?"

"Because it's smashing good fun to watch you cringe." Draco sank back into the cushions behind him, a smirk of Gryffindor-taunting proportions gracing his features.

"It's creepy." Harry shuddered slightly.

"You know, we still haven't gotten that diary off of her." Draco stared absently over Harry's shoulder.

"What made you bring that up?" Blaise asked, not looking up from her Astronomy essay.

"Because she's writing in a book, and it looks like she's crossing the entire page so she's probably not annotating it," Draco drawled.

"Well it's not like we can get it off her now," Harry grumbled, trying to get back to his homework.

"Actually, you could try," Blaise retorted, grinning at the absolutely disgusted look on Harry's face.

"She's been making calf-eyes at me since we got here!" Harry hissed.

"Which was what, a week ago?" Blaise smirked in a decidedly taunting way.

"Don't remind me."

"Closer to two weeks, actually." Glancing up from his history book, Greg corrected Harry.

"Oh, well if it was _two_ weeks," Harry grumbled.

"Just go talk to her." Draco gave Harry a gentle shove. "You basically claimed her when you protected her from her brother on the first night."

"I _what_?" Harry stared at Draco.

"You basically let the entire school know that she was under your protection." Draco blinked. "Didn't you know?"

"_No._ Of course I didn't know! No one told me!" Harry hissed, if only to keep from yelling.

"Well, it's kind of common knowledge." Draco's voice plainly stated his opinion of Harry's lack of common sense.

"Hel_lo_. Muggle raised." Harry was pleased to see Draco flush slightly at that reminder.

"Right. Well, I'll explain it more later, but basically when you defended her you claimed her, which means her well-being is your responsibility, at least in traditional pureblood circles. Of course, it's not a life-debt or anything, but you do have both the right and responsibility to make sure she's settling in well and all that. Granted, she's a Weasley, so she may not know that . . ." Draco trailed off, gazing at the girl huddled in an oft-abandoned chair in a rather chilly corner of the common room. "Or maybe she does." He grinned. "The little Slytherin."

"Did I just hear a fond tone out of you when talking about a Weasley?" Blaise stared at Draco.

"Go check in with her, Harry," Draco said. "Blaise and I'll go check with her roommates."

"We will?" Blaise asked, somehow managing a sarcastic deadpan.

"Of course we will. It's our duty to help Harry!" Draco postured.

Blaise rolled her eyes.

Harry heaved a rather dramatic sigh, absently wondering if he was picking up bad habits from Draco, and shook his head before walking towards Ginny. He was glad she was so focused because it gave him a chance to read over her shoulder, not that there was much to read. Her letters seemed to vanish into the page almost as quickly as she wrote them.

_. . . feel so alone though. Sometimes I wish I'd told the Hat to put me in Gryffindor, but Tom, _Harry'_s in Slytherin, and . . . _

Harry figured he should interrupt. "Hey, Ginny."

She squeaked, knocked her ink over, and slammed the book closed.

"H-Harry." She whirled to look at him, face a deep red. "You startled me."

"I can see that." He leaned against the arm of the chair and grinned down at her.

"Did you need something?" She regained her composure well, but not enough to stop the blush, or keep him from noticing the way her voice went slightly breathy.

"Apparently there's some custom or other that states that because I protected you from your brother after the welcoming feast I'm now responsible for your well-being. I didn't know this until about a minute ago, but I figured I'd at least come over and see how you're settling in." He refused to shift nervously even as his brain screamed for him to run away from the infatuated female.

"O-oh." She blushed profusely and looked away, increasing Harry's discomfort.

"So, are you settling in well?" Harry really had no clue how to get the diary away from her, and she was clutching it so tightly that he was pretty sure she wouldn't hand it to him if he asked.

"Um. I guess?" She looked down, and he knew she was lying. Well, half-lying. She wasn't even close to being able to pull off a full-blown lie.

"Um-hm. So, why are you hiding all the way over here where the other first years can't see you?" he asked, glancing towards where Draco was standing by a group that encompassed everyone in her year except Ginny. Blaise, for some reason, was walking towards him.

"N-nothing." She rose as though to flee, and Harry had to move quickly to keep her from slipping down the corridor towards the girls dorms.

"Really?"

Harry had never heard Blaise's voice so harsh.

"Then why don't you stop whining at your little diary," she ripped the book from Ginny's hands, "and learn to be a Slytherin, not a bloody nose-wiper with an attitude problem."

"Give that back!" Ginny's yell was loud enough to pull the attention of everyone in the common room.

"No." Blaise glared at her, and she backed down so quickly Harry was sure coercions had been involved. "Go." She pointed towards the other first-years.

"They don't like me," Ginny whined quietly.

"I. Don't. Care." Blaise growled. "You've been nothing but a whiny little bint since you got here."

"Blaise-" Harry tried to interrupt.

"Shut up, Harry. This wouldn't have lasted this long if you'd bothered to ask if your actions would have consequences!" Without waiting for a reply she rounded on the now-terrified first-year. "And you. You wanted to be in Slytherin, and as soon as you get here you start acting like it's our fault you're in unfamiliar territory. Get this through your thick skull: You need to learn how to act like a Slytherin, not a lovesick puppy, and you need to correct your Gryffindorish attitude before you start getting hexed."

Harry watched, not gaping despite his shock, as Blaise took a half-step to the side, giving Ginny room to bolt. The first-year took the opportunity, fleeing down the girl's hall. Across the room the other first-year girls quickly stowed their homework in bags and followed.

"What...was that?" Harry asked, staring blankly towards the girls' dorms.

"Giving them a common enemy." Blaise answered calmly, bumping him with her shoulder to get him moving back towards their bags. Gregory, Vincent, and Kira didn't look like they'd even looked up, and Draco was already scratching away at a fresh parchment.

"I think I need to go practice," Harry said, staring blankly at his bag, though he didn't move.

"Then go. I'll tell Gregory to bring your stuff when he goes to your room." Blaise walked away, leaving Harry with a full head and no clue what had just happened.

He stood there for another minute before shaking off the foggy feeling that had taken over his brain and retreating to his room to grab his violin. He felt disconcerted, adrift. There were so many things his friends expected him to just know, though how they forgot he was Muggle-raised he didn't know. That, added to the masks they put on and took off like articles of clothing, made his brain spin sometimes.

Scales were steadying, simple. Up note-by-note. Down note-by-note. Long notes using the full bow, and short notes using only part. He let his brain shut down, much the same way he did working in Severus' lab. It took a while, but eventually he managed to re-centre himself enough to rejoin the others and finish his homework. He just hoped the night didn't hold any more surprises.


End file.
